"Certainly not before it exists," was her answer.
He leaned toward her eagerly. The room was almost deserted, and they
sat in the shelter of a great palm, so that she felt herself to be
alone with him.
"Don't try to put me off," he pleaded. "I am in earnest."
She rose quickly, setting her cup down in the tub of the palm.
"Come," she said, "you forget that I am dancing the german with Mr. Van
Sandt. He will have no idea what has become of me."
Stanford stood before her, barring her way.
"Hang Van Sandt! You should be dancing with me, only I had to do the
polite to this everlasting English girl. I wish she was in Australia. I
wonder why in the world an English girl is never able to learn to
dance."
"That I cannot answer. Perhaps their feet are too big; but you must go
back to her all the same, whether she can dance or not."
"Not until you answer me. You know you are keeping me on hot coals,
Berenice. You know I love you."
She flushed, drew back, grew pale.
"I have answered you already," she replied, hurriedly but firmly. "Why
must you make me say it again? I don't love you, and that is reason
enough why you shouldn't care for me.
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