After dinner she took a few turns on the piazza with Wally before she went to bed. She wore an odd, white crêpe frock, which hung very close. Her hair was bound round her head like a cap.
"Let's sneak in and have the first dance together," said Wally; "Max has a beau."
"All right; then I'll skip," agreed Isabelle.
With the first strains of music they swung into a waltz. They danced well, and enjoyed it.
"Go to bed," ordered Max as she passed them.
Isabelle saw Mr. Cartel idly glance in, then at sight of her he came to the door and watched them.
"Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us," said Wally as the dance was over.
Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the moment, she stepped in after him.
In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed again and again, while he said laughingly:
"I wonder who you are," said Isabelle sweetly, "and who you think I am."
"Thunder!" said Mr. Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.
"There must be some mistake," Isabelle suggested. "I will ask you to stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator. That will save us both any embarrassment."
"But I don't understand," he mumbled. "I do beg your pardon, I thought----"
"Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall," she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more at a loss than such events usually found him.
Now whether Mr. Cartel peeped or not, the next day he recalled a previous meeting with Wally, and asked to be presented to his daughter.
"Haven't we met before, Miss Bryce?" he asked, giving her a very special look.
"No," she replied, with the faintest suspicion of a taunt in her tone.
"I was under the impression that we had."
"You might," with the slightest accent on the pronoun.
From that moment he devoted himself to the "little Bryce girl." He rode with her, walked with her, talked with her, roared with amusement over her _diablerie_, until all tongues clacked about it. Mrs. Andrews left, in a huff.
"You've got to stop it, Wally," Max ordered. "Every one is talking."