“I hardly think I have any need to interfere.”

They separated, the younger people walking slowly, silently toward the door.  He held her arm, assisting her to descend the stairway, his lips murmuring a few commonplaces, to which she scarcely returned even monosyllabic replies, although she frequently flashed shy glances at his grave face.  Both realized that some explanation was forthcoming, yet neither was quite prepared to force the issue.

“I have no wraps at the hotel,” she said, as he attempted to turn that way.  “That was a lie also; let us walk directly down the road.”

He indulged in no comment, his eyes perceiving a pathetic pleading in her upturned face.  Suddenly there came to him a belief that the girl was crying; he could feel the slight tremor of her form against his own.  He glanced furtively at her, only to catch the glitter of a falling tear.  To her evident distress, his heart made instant and sympathetic response.  With all respect influencing the action, his hand closed warmly over the smaller one on his sleeve.

“Little girl,” he said, forgetting the shortness of their acquaintance in the deep feeling of the moment, “tell me what the trouble is.”

“I suppose you think me an awful creature for saying that,” she blurted out, without looking up.  “It wasn’t ladylike or nice, but—­but I simply could n’t help it, Lieutenant Brant.”

“You mean your sudden determination to carry me home with you?” he asked, relieved to think this might prove the entire difficulty.  “Don’t let that worry you.  Why, I am simply rejoiced at being permitted to go.  Do you know, I wanted to request the privilege all the time we were dancing together.  But you acted so differently from when we were beneath the vines that I actually lost my nerve.”

She looked up, and he caught a fleeting glimpse into her unveiled eyes.

“I did not wish you to ask me.”

“What?” He stopped suddenly.  “Why then did you make such an announcement to Mrs. Herndon?”

“Oh, that was different,” she explained, uneasily.  “I had to do that; I had to trust you to help me out, but—­but I really wanted to go home alone.”

He swept his unbelieving eyes around over the deserted night scene, not knowing what answer to return to so strange an avowal.  “Was that what caused you to appear so distant to me in the hall, so vastly different from what you had been before?”

She nodded, but with her gaze still upon the ground.

“Miss Naida,” he said, “it would be cowardly for me to attempt to dodge this issue between us.  Is it because you do not like me?”

She looked up quickly, the moonlight revealing her flushed face.

“Oh, no, no! you must never think that.  I told you I was a girl of moods; under those vines I had one mood, in the hall another.  Cannot you understand?”