I + 

“Dear me!” said Stella, wonderingly; “I would never have known you in the world! You’ve grown so fa⁠—I mean, you are so well built. I’ve grown? Nonsense!⁠—and besides, what did you expect me to do in six years?⁠—and moreover, it is abominably rude of you to presume to speak of me in that abstracted and figurative manner⁠—quite as if I were a debt or a taste for drink. It is really only French heels and a pompadour, and, of course, you can’t have this dance. It’s promised, and I hop, you know, frightfully.⁠ ⁠… Why, naturally, I haven’t forgotten⁠—How could I, when you were the most disagreeable boy I ever knew?” + 

I ventured a suggestion that caused Stella to turn an attractive pink, and laugh. “No,” said she, demurely, “I shall never never sit out another dance with you.” + 

So she did remember! + 

Subsequently: “Our steps suit perfectly⁠—Heavens! you are the fifth man who has said that tonight, and I am sure it would be very silly and very tiresome to dance through life with anybody. Men are so absurd, don’t you think? Oh, yes, I tell them all⁠—every one of them⁠—that our steps suit, even when they have just ripped off a yard or so of flounce in an attempt to walk up the front of my dress. It makes them happy, poor things, and injures nobody. You liked it, you know; you grinned like a pleased cat. I like cats, don’t you?” + 

Later: “That is absolute nonsense, you know,” said Stella, critically. “Do you always get red in the face when you make love? I wouldn’t if I were you. You really have no idea how queer it makes you look.” + 

Still later: “No, I don’t think I am going anywhere tomorrow afternoon,” said Stella. + 