Their fingers touched in the same set, but Rose never deigned him a glance.
Her perfumed skirts brushed him as she flew by in the redowa, but she never looked up.
"He shall see how little I care," thought jealous Rose.

"I suppose he thinks I am dying for him, but he shall find out how much he is mistaken." With this thought in her mind, she sat down while her partner went for an ice.

It was the first time that night she had been a moment alone.
Mr.Stanford, leaning against a pillar idly, took advantage of it, and was beside her before she knew it.

Her cheeks turned scarlet, and her heart quickened involuntarily as he sat down beside her.
"I have been ignored so palpably all evening that I am half afraid to come near you," he said; "will it be high treason to ask you to waltz with me!" Alas for Rose's heroic resolutions! How was she to resist the persuasive voice and smile of this man?
How was she to resist the delight of waltzing with him?
She bowed in silence, still with averted eyes; and Lieutenant Stanford, smiling slightly, drew her hand within his arm.

Her late partner came up with the ice, but Rose had got something better than ice cream, and did not want it.