not good at all. I am very bad."

She almost tore herself free a second later, and Isabel, divining that
any further demonstration from her would cause a breakdown, bade her a
loving good night and went away.

Dinah stood awhile struggling for self-control. She had been perilously
near to baring her soul to Isabel in those moments of tenderness. Even
now the impulse urged her to run after her and tell her of the temptation
to which she was yielding. She forced it down with clenched hands,
telling herself over and over that it was her last chance, her last
chance, and she must not lose it. And so at length it passed; and with it
passed also the pricks of conscience that had so troubled her. She
emerged from the brief struggle with a sense of mad triumph. The spirit
of adventure had entered into her, and she no longer paused to count the
cost.

"I expect I shall be sorry in the morning," she said to herself. "But
to-night--oh, to-night--nothing matters except Apollo!"

She whisked to the door and set it ajar. The dance-music drew her, drew
her, like the voice of a siren. For that one night she would live again.
She would feel his arm about her and the magic in her brain. Already her
feet yearned to the alluring rhythm. She leaned against the door-post,
and gave herself up to her dream. Yet once more the wine of the gods was
held to her lips. She would drink deeply, deeply.