The future vista of her life seemed an unending succession of scenes like this: under moonlight and pale starlight, and in the backs of warm limousines and in low, cosy roadsters stopped under sheltering trees--only the boy might change, and this one was so nice.

He took her hand softly.

With a sudden movement he turned it and, holding it to his lips, kissed the palm.
"Isabelle!" His whisper blended in the music, and they seemed to float nearer together.

Her breath came faster.

"Can't I kiss you, Isabelle--Isabelle ?" Lips half parted, she turned her head to him in the dark.