He was drawing her away from the glare of coloured lights as he spoke, drawing her to the further end of the rink where stood a tiny, rustic pavilion.

She went with him with a breathless sense of high adventure, skimming the ice in time with his rhythmic movements, mesmerized into an enchanted quiescence.

They reached the pavilion, and he paused.  The other skaters were left behind.  They stood as it were in a magic circle all their own.  And only the moon looked on.

“Ah, Daphne!” he said, and took her in his arms.

There came to Dinah then a wild and desperate sense of fear, fear that was coupled with a wholly unreasoning and instinctive shame.  She strained back from him.  “Oh no!  Oh no!” she gasped.  “I mustn’t!  I’m sure it’s wrong!”

But he mastered her very slowly, wholly without violence, yet wholly irresistibly.  His dark face with its blue, compelling eyes dominated her, conquered her.  And all her life resistance had been quelled in her.  Her will wavered and was down.

“Why should it be wrong?” he whispered.  “I tell you that nothing matters—­nothing matters.  We take our pleasures, and we tell no one.  It is no one’s business but our own, sweetheart.  And nothing is wrong, if no harm is done to anyone.”

Subtle, alluring, half-laughing, half-relentless, he drew her closer yet, he bent and pressed his lips upon her upturned face.  But she quivered still and shrank, though unresisting.  She could not give her lips to his.  His kiss burned through and through her, so that she longed to flee away and hide.

For though that kiss sent a thrill of wild ecstasy through her, there was anguish mingled therewith.  Even while she exulted over her unexpected victory, she was smitten with the thought that it had cost her too dear.  Had she told him too much about herself that he held her thus cheaply?  Would he—­however urgent his desire to do so—­would he have dreamed of treating Rose thus?  Or any other girl of his own standing?

The thought went through her like a dagger.  She bent herself back over his arm avoiding his lips a second time.  That one kiss had opened her eyes.

“Oh, let me go!” she said, her voice muffled and tremulous.  “You mustn’t—­ever—­do it again.”

“Why not?” he whispered softly.  “What does it matter?  This is the land of no consequences.”

“I can’t help it,” she whispered back.  “It may not mean anything to you.  But—­but—­it makes me feel—­wicked.”

He laughed at her with tender ridicule.  His arms still held her, but no longer closely.

“Don’t be afraid, my elf of the mountains!” he said.  “I won’t do it again—­yet.  But there is nothing in it I tell you.  And what does it matter if no one knows?  Why shouldn’t you have all the fun you can get?”

Dinah straightened herself, and passed her hands over her face with an oddly childish gesture.  He behaved as though he had conferred a favour upon her; but yet the horrible feeling of shame lingered.  Her mother’s most drastic punishments had never humbled her more completely.