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Rh She took Blake's arm and they went into the dancing room. He danced extremely well. So did she. Elsie had never felt before during a dance as she felt now. She had at once a sense of intoxication and terror. She had begun to be afraid of Blake, and she had never in her life been afraid of any man. What had he meant by asking her if she had given him a challenge. What did he think of her? What had he heard about her? Well, she would show him that she could take care of herself.

The waltz ended, and they strolled into the garden. The moon was rising, and threw fantastic shadows upon the gravelled walk.

"Mr. Blake," Elsie said, suddenly, "will you please tell me what you meant when you told me—that day by the creek—the day I threw the flower at your horse—that you had been wishing to make my acquaintance for a particular reason? Will you tell me what the reason was?"

"If you wish it," he said; "but it is rather a long story. I don't think I can get it into the interval between this and the next dance."

"I am not engaged for the next dance. We will sit it out—unless you want to dance."

"No. It seems absurd to say that I would much rather sit it out with you."

"Why absurd?"

"You forbade me to pay you compliments," he answered.

They turned towards the lagoon, out of the track of promenaders. There was an avenue of bunyas leading to the boathouse, and the dark pyramidal pine trees looked strangely solemn in the moonlight. Elsie gave a little shiver.

"I hate this walk. It puts me in mind of a churchyard. Come down here. There's a seat close to the house, and I shall be able to hear when the waltz begins."

She took him into a vine trellis to the right, and they sat down oh a bench which was placed in a sort of arbour.