“Such disgraceful conduct, Doctor Oleander!  I have been searching for you everywhere.  I appeal to you, Colonel Marshland; he engaged me for this quadrille.  There is the music now, and he leaves me to hunt the house for him.”

“Unpardonable,” said the gallant colonel.  “At his age I should have known better.  Oleander, make your peace if you can.”

The colonel made his bow, and then he walked away.

Dr. Oleander drew her arm inside his own, bending very low over the sparkling sprite.

“You are not implacable, I trust, Miss Mollie.  It was all the colonel’s fault, I assure you.”

Mollie shrugged her shoulders.

“Of course you say so.  Oh, don’t wear that imploring face!  I forgive you; but sin no more.  There! they are waiting—­come!”

All through the dance Miss Dane sparkled as she had never sparkled Before.  Ere the quadrille was over, Dr. Oleander was ten fathoms deeper in love than ever.

“It is so very hot here!” Mollie exclaimed, impatiently—­“perfectly stifling!  Do let us go somewhere and get cool.”

“Let us go into the conservatory,” said Dr. Oleander, delightedly, quite unconscious that his fair enslaver was playing into his hand.  “We are sure to find solitude and coolness there.”

The conservatory was delightfully cool, after the African temperature of the ball-room.  Alabaster lamps shed a pale sort of moonlight over the sleeping flowers, and splashing fountains, and marble goddesses.

Miss Dane sunk down under a large orange-tree and began fanning herself languidly.

“How nice—­this half light, these perfumed roses, those tinkling water-falls, music, and solitude!  Do I look like Love among the Roses, Doctor Oleander?”

“Yes; like Love, like Venus, like everything that is bright, and beautiful, and irresistible, Miss Dane!”

“Monsieur overwhelms me!  Why, good gracious, sir!  What do you mean?”

For Dr. Oleander had actually caught her in his arms and was pouring forth a passionate declaration of love.

“Goodness me!  Release me instantly!  How dare you, sir?  Have you taken leave of your senses, Doctor Oleander?”

“I am mad for love of you, beautiful Mollie!  I adore you with my whole heart!”

“Do you, indeed?” said Mollie, looking angrily at her ruffled plumage.  “See my dress—­not fit to be seen!  I’m surprised at you, Doctor Oleander!”

“Mollie, I love you!”

“I don’t care—­that’s no reason why you should spoil my lovely dress, and make me a perfect fright.  You had no business going on in that outrageous manner, sir!”

“But, Mollie!  Good heavens! will you listen to me?  Never mind your dress.”

“Never mind my dress?” cried Miss Dane, shrilly.  “Doctor Oleander, you’re a perfect bear, and I’ve a good mind never to speak to you again as long as I live!  Let us go back to the ball-room.  If I had known you were going to act so, I’d have seen you considerably inconvenienced before I came with you here.”