She bowed her head kindly, and said, smiling:

"But you are not busy to-night; and if you'll not think me forward, I will
reverse the etiquette, and ask you to dance with me."

"Indeed I will do so with very great pleasure."

"Are you sure?"

"Could you doubt it?"

"I was so _very_ rude to you!"

And she hung her head. That, then, was the secret of her choice of my arm.
I could only assure her that I did not think her rude, and I hoped she
would forget the whole incident. I was pleased in spite of all--for I like
to think well of women. The cynical writers say they are all mean, and
mercenary, and cowardly. Was Annie? She had left many finely-dressed
gentlemen, faultlessly appointed, to dance with a poor stranger, quite out
at elbows.

I saw many cold looks directed at myself; and when Annie took my arm to go
into supper, the gloom in the faces of some gentlemen who had been
refused, made me smile. When the party was over, Annie gave me her hand at
the foot of the staircase. I saw a triumphant light in her mischievous
eyes, as she glanced at the departing gallants; her rosy cheeks dimpled,
and she flitted up, humming a gay tune.

It is singular how beautiful she is when she laughs--as when she sighs. Am