The Lighted Match

She rose and turned toward the door, then suddenly carrying one hand to her eyes, she took a single unsteady step and swayed as though she would fall. Instantly his arms were around her and for a moment he could feel, in its wild fluttering, her heart against the red breast of his hunting-coat.

Her laugh was a little shaken as she drew away from him and stood, still a trifle unsteady. Her voice was surcharged with self-contempt.

"Sir Gray Eyes, I--I ask you to believe that I don't habitually fall about into people's arms. I'm developing nerves--there is a white feather in my moral and mental plumage."

He looked at her with grave eyes, from which he sternly banished all questioning--and remained silent.

They passed out into the hall and, at the foot of the stairs where their ways diverged, she paused to look back at him with an unclouded smile.

"You have not told me what to wear."