So many people had been invited to the Cavendish ball that there was scarce room to dance. Myra caught sight of Don Carlos several times, and her heart beat a trifle fast when at last she saw him making his way through the crowd towards her during an interval.

“May I have the pleasure and honour of dancing the next with you, Miss Rostrevor?” he inquired, with his usual courtly bow. “The floor is becoming less crowded now the news has gone round that supper is being served.”

Myra’s first impulse was to snub him, but she refrained, rose without a word as the music re-started, and they glided round together to the lilting refrain of the band. Both were extremely graceful and accomplished dancers, and several other couples ceased dancing to watch them, giving them the centre of the floor.

“Are you afraid to look at me, cara mia?” whispered Don Carlos, after a few minutes. “I want to look deep into your dear blue eyes and try to read what is in your heart.”

“I am afraid the result would be a shock to your overweening vanity, Don Carlos,” responded Myra coldly, still avoiding his eyes. “I am very angry with you, and I am surprised you should have had the audacity to ask me to dance with you before even attempting to offer any apology for your outrageous behaviour of this afternoon.”

“Dear, darling, delicious, delectable lady, why should I apologise for taking up your challenge and redeeming my promise?” Don Carlos asked. “Why profess to be offended with the man who loves you so passionately for taking a few of the kisses for which he was craving and hungering? What is it your great Shakespeare wrote that fits our case? ... Ah! I have it! ...”

He sang the words softly, fitting them to the rhythm of the air the dance-band was playing:

“’A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And pay them at your leisure, one by one.
What are ten hundred touches unto thee?
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
Say for non-payment that the debt should double;
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?’”

“Oh, you are an utterly outrageous and impossible man!” exclaimed Myra, half-annoyed, half-amused, and at heart a little fascinated withal. “Even if I did flirt with you at Auchinleven to amuse myself, you had no right to take my teasing seriously you, who are such an experienced flirt and philanderer, and who do not expect women to take your love-making seriously and laugh at them if they do.”

“I expect you to take my love-making seriously, Myra,” he answered.

“Your expectations will not be realised, Don Carlos, and if you attempt to repeat your conduct of to-day there will be trouble,” said Myra, forcing herself to meet his ardent eyes unflinchingly. “It is unsportsmanlike to try to excuse yourself by throwing the blame on me, pleading, like Adam, ‘The woman tempted me.’ You might at least express regret for your conduct.”

“I have no regrets, Myra,” murmured Don Carlos. “I have tasted the nectar of your lips, and now I hunger for a banquet of love.”

“In that case you will surely die of starvation,” said Myra, with a light laugh.

“Dios! how you torture me, Myra!” muttered Don Carlos frowningly. “I hoped you would tell me you had found your heart, that my kisses had at last awakened it. I love you, love you with every fibre of my being, and you you love, yet you refrain.”

“Quoting Henley, aren’t you, Don Carlos, and trying the effect of pathos by way of a change?” retorted Myra. “How amusing! As far as I am concerned, you can ’break your heart on my hard unfaith and break your heart in vain...’ Don’t grip my hand so tightly. You are hurting me.”

“I will hurt you if you are trifling with me and making mock of my love,” said Don Carlos quickly, through clenched teeth. “Don’t try me too far, Myra. Beware lest my love turns to hate!”

“Beware lest my love turns to hate!” mimicked Myra, and trilled out a laugh. “You are talking like a character in an old-fashioned melodrama. Should I play up to you by crying, ‘Unhand me, villain,’ turning deathly pale, and screaming for help. Don’t be absurd! ... We won’t dance the encore. But if you will promise to be sensible and refrain from talking extravagant nonsense, you may take me in to supper.”

She felt certain that she had both hurt and puzzled Don Carlos, and she gloried in the thought, flattering herself that she was really taking her revenge. She was completely mistress of herself again, sure of her own powers, and during supper she laid herself out to be “nice,” with almost devastating effect, playing on the emotions of the Spaniard like a skilled musician on a sensitive instrument. Deliberately she encouraged him, only to rebuff him when she had inflamed his ardour, deliberately she set herself to excite his passions, only to reward him with a cold douche of ridicule.

“I believe the man is actually in love with me,” Myra soliloquised, smiling in self-satisfied fashion at her reflection in the mirror as she undressed that night. “He was grinding his teeth in sheer mortification and looking quite murderous when I told him he was boring me, and I went off with Tony. Yes, I think I am taking my revenge. What a triumph if I find myself able to twist round my little finger, so to speak, the man who boasted no woman could resist him!”

Yet when she fell asleep she dreamed that she was again in the arms of Don Carlos with his lips crushed on her own, and that she was returning his passionate kisses with fervour and straining the Spaniard close to her heart although Tony (in her dream) was looking on, feebly begging her to desist and to kiss him instead, and Lady Fermanagh was standing by protesting in solemn tones that she was “playing with fire.”

“What an utterly absurd dream!” Myra reflected, when she woke with her heart thrilling queerly. “I wonder what particular and peculiar kink in my mental outfit made me enjoy kisses in my dreams which I hated while I was awake? How flattered Don Carlos would be if he knew!”

An hour or so later she chanced to encounter Don Carlos while she was taking her morning gallop in the Row, and he brought his horse abreast of hers, saluting in his usual gallant manner.

“You tortured me last night, Myra, but in my dreams I got full recompense,” he said, after formal greetings.

“Really! How fortunate for you!” drawled Myra, with well-feigned lack of interest. “Do you flatter yourself even when you are asleep?”

“It was an extremely vivid dream, Myra,” continued Don Carlos, ignoring the jocular question. “I dreamed you were in my arms, straining me close to your breast, and returning my hungry kisses with passionate ardour. We were drinking Love’s cup of rapture together, my beloved and I, giving and taking all.”

With her own dream still vivid in her memory; Myra was startled. Her heart seemed to miss a beat, she felt the hot colour rush to her face, and she bent forward to stroke her horse’s neck lest her expression might betray her if she met Don Carlos’s eyes.

“How utterly preposterous!” she commented. “However, it is said that dreams are contrary. Incidentally, I meant what I said when I told you I should refuse to talk to you if you persisted in being sentimental. Good morning!”

Being Irish, Myra Rostrevor was by nature more than a little superstitious and inclined to attach some importance to dreams and omens, and she rode away feeling just a tiny bit scared at heart, and wondering uneasily if perchance Don Carlos de Ruiz was a thought-reader.

“Sure, and I don’t know what to make of you, Myra,” she whispered to her own reflection in the mirror, as she changed from her riding costume into a morning frock. “I don’t know what to make of you at all, at all! And I don’t know what to make of Don Carlos, either. I don’t know if you are in love with him or not, and I’m not sure but what if he kissed you again you might make a fool of yourself and give up the idea of making a fool of him.... Oh, if only I knew whether he is in earnest or not!”

Myra was almost afraid to attempt to analyse her own feelings and emotions, and could come to no decision concerning either herself or Don Carlos. She continued to “blow hot, blow cold” every time they met, sometimes treating him with studied coldness, at other times flirting with him beguilingly, but always taking precautions against giving him any opportunity to kiss her again.

Meanwhile Tony Standish had taken Lady Fermanagh’s advice, and he was wooing Myra with all the fervour and passion of which his somewhat phlegmatic nature was capable, wooing her as if their betrothal was yet to be, instead of an accomplished fact. Hardly a day passed but he brought or sent some expensive trifle, together with flowers, chocolates, or cigarettes, with assurances of his undying affection.

His tributes of devotion made Myra feel just a trifle guilty, made her wonder, too, if Tony had decided that the love-making of Don Carlos was something more than make-believe, and he was trying to make sure of her.

“Oh, Tony, dear, you make me feel as if you were buying me!” she exclaimed one afternoon, when her lover presented her with a diamond pendant. “Why have you given me such lots of presents lately, you extravagant old thing?”

“Well, darling, I want to show you how much in love with you I am,” answered Tony, looking quite bashful. “I am tremendously in love with you, Myra, honour bright, and I’d do anything to prove it. I’d I’d give my life for you, sweetheart. Honestly, it would break my heart if I lost you.”

“Tony, what makes you talk of losing me?” Myra asked quickly.

“Oh er nothing, really, but er well, you’re so beautiful, and fascinating, and attractive, and all the rest of it, and I know there are several men who are in love with you and would like to cut me out if they could,” explained Tony. “I say, dear, I don’t mean that I think you’d let me down and go back on your promise to marry me. Er you weren’t in earnest, were you, darling, when you talked about letting Don Carlos fall in love with you at Auchinleven, and making me jealous? Please don’t mind my asking, but I’m rather worried, to tell the truth.”

“Worried because you think I may be in love with Don Carlos?”

“No, Myra, not exactly, but because I know he is in love with you. He told me so himself last night.”

“He told you so himself!” exclaimed Myra, startled.

“Yes. Placed me in a rather difficult position. I suppose it was really rather sporty of him. I don’t know if I should tell you. He called on me and said he was afraid he’d have to ask me to release him from his promise to be my guest on the yachting tour. Naturally I asked him why, and he told me frankly that he had fallen in love with you.”

Myra’s heart beat a trifle faster as she listened.

“Said he thought it was only right I should know, and that he supposed it wouldn’t be playing the game according to English ideas if he made love to you and tried to win you from me while he was my guest,” continued Tony. “I didn’t know quite what to say, except that I was sorry.”

He looked at Myra expectantly and a little anxiously as he paused, and Myra laughed involuntarily. But her heart was still behaving rather oddly and she felt her face flushing.

“How absurd, Tony!” she exclaimed. “Do you think he was in earnest?”

“Oh, yes, he seemed to be in deadly earnest,” replied Tony. “Er I didn’t quite know what to do about it, as I said before, but it suddenly occurred to me that if I let Don Carlos withdraw his acceptance of my invitation it might seem like an admission that I had not complete faith in you and was afraid of losing you. You see what I mean, Myra?”

“More or less,” said Myra, rather bewildered. “But surely you don’t mean that you pressed him to come, knowing he would go on making love to me?”

“I didn’t exactly press him, but I told him that if he felt he must decline my invitation because he was in love with you, we should naturally have to decline his invitation to Spain for the same reason,” responded Tony. “I told him he ought to have known you were only amusing yourself to pay him out, and that he should have known better than lose his heart after you had objected to his attempting to make love to you. So eventually he laughed and said if I wasn’t afraid of him as a rival he would come. I hope you don’t mind, darling. I told him he hadn’t an earthly hope.”

“It is nice to know you are so sure of me that you have no fear of a rival,” commented Myra drily, after a momentary pause.

“I say, Myra, do you mean that, or are you being sarcastic?” asked Tony. “What could I do in the circumstances? Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned the matter to you at all, but er I thought you might feel rather flattered to know that you have made another conquest, and you know you said you weren’t in the least afraid of Don Carlos. I thought, too, that you’d take it rather as a compliment if I showed I had complete faith in you. You didn’t really want me to display jealousy, did you?”

“I don’t know, Tony,” replied Myra evasively. “If the positions were reversed and I were engaged to Don Carlos and you had been making love to me, I expect he would have killed you by now, and perhaps strangled me into the bargain.”

“Englishmen don’t do that sort of thing,” remarked Tony, looking hurt. “If you mean you would prefer me to behave like an emotional foreigner ”

“Oh, Tony, dear, don’t be absurd!” interrupted Myra, her mood changing. “I see how you looked at the matter, and I know I should be glad you have such faith in me. But don’t you think Don Carlos may regard your indifference to his rivalry as being almost in the nature of a challenge?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, Myra, but in any case I know you’ll be able to keep Don Carlos at a distance if he should try to make love to you again,” answered Tony. “Sure you’re not vexed with me, dear?”

“I don’t know whether I’m vexed or pleased, amused or scared, but I am certainly thrilled,” said Myra. “To think that Don Carlos, who boasted that no woman could resist him, should confess to you, that he has lost his heart to me!”

“I couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for the poor chap,” remarked Tony. “I should feel ghastly if I had fallen in love with you after you had become engaged to another man, and knew there was no hope.”

“Don’t be too sure there is no hope for Don Carlos,” said Myra provocatively; but Tony’s look of piteous dismay caused her to relent almost instantly, and she kissed him.

Long after Tony had gone, Myra sat lost in thought, her heart still thrilling. Don Carlos’s confession was, of course, a compliment and tribute to her powers of fascination, and naturally Myra was flattered; but she was also more than a little puzzled.

She could not quite fathom Don Carlos’s motive for telling Tony Standish he was in love with her, and she realised that Tony had been cleverer than he knew. By telling her of Don Carlos’s confession and assuring her that he had complete faith in her he had, as it were, placed her on her honour not to forsake him.

“I wonder what wise Aunt Clarissa would advise?” mused Myra. “I must tell her that although she said I was playing with fire it is Don Carlos, apparently, who has got burnt.”

“You certainly appear to have reason to flatter yourself on your success as a coquette, Myra,” commented Lady Fermanagh drily, after listening attentively to Myra’s story of Don Carlos’s confession to Tony, and, incidentally, without making any mention of the fact that she had already heard the story from Tony himself over the telephone. “You have the laugh on Don Carlos de Ruiz now, my dear, but don’t forget the old proverb that he who laughs last laughs best. Actually, it is not a laughing matter at all, but a crime to break a man’s heart in jest.”

“You don’t really suppose that Don Carlos is heart-broken, do you, Aunt?” asked Myra.

“Frankly, I do not,” responded Lady Fermanagh. “I don’t quite know what to make of it. My idea is that Don Carlos probably guessed you had boasted you would make him fall in love with you, and he may either be pandering to your vanity by leading you to believe you have succeeded in your object, or else trying to make a fool of you. Be careful, my dear! It isn’t safe to trifle with men of the type of Don Carlos de Ruiz, as I have told you before.”

“Pouf! If he has actually fallen in love with me, he is more likely to make a fool of himself than of me,” Myra exclaimed.

“One never knows,” Lady Fermanagh responded. “I believe you are half in love with him as it is, Myra, and if he cared to exercise all his powers he might be able to induce you to break with Tony.”

Myra shook her red-gold head, but at heart she knew her aunt might be right.

“Your idea, as you have admitted, was to make Don Carlos fall in love with you in earnest, because he had made love to you in jest,” continued Lady Fermanagh. “You wanted to have the satisfaction of ’turning him down’ to use the ultra-modern expression and laughing at him for losing his heart. Take care, my dear Myra, that he does not turn the tables on you again.”

“How could he?” asked Myra, feeling somewhat piqued.

“Well, it might amuse him to protest that he is heart-broken, to persuade you to take pity on him and forsake Tony, to confess yourself in love with him, and then in the end to remind you of his boast that no woman could resist him, and explain that he did not want you, had merely been testing his powers and taking revenge for your coquetry.”

“Surely, he wouldn’t be such a beast!”

“He might and more particularly if he is in earnest,” said Lady Fermanagh gravely. “No man likes being laughed at, except when he is appearing on the stage as a comedian. A man in love is particularly sensitive to ridicule. I wonder how many murders have been committed in Spain as a result of girls inducing men to make fools of themselves?”

“Oh, Aunt, don’t be absurd!” interposed Myra. “Are you suggesting that Don Carlos may murder me? Do you anticipate his plunging a stiletto or some sort of Spanish dagger into my heart, or committing suicide on our nice clean doorstep, because I do not reciprocate his passion?”

She trilled out a laugh and her aunt had, perforce, to smile.

“One never knows,” she said again. “My advice to you is not to take any further risks, and not to attempt to gloat over Don Carlos. And I think you should fix the date for your marriage to Tony Standish and make a good resolution to break no more hearts.”

“And join a Dorcas society, and wear flannel next the skin, and woollen stockings and flat-heeled shoes!” Myra added frivolously. “Thank you so much, Aunt Clarissa!”