Sir Timothy
rose to his feet. He had been sitting in a corner, half
sheltered by a pillar, and had fancied himself unseen.
"What a relief!" she exclaimed. "Another turn and I should have
fainted through sheer boredom."
"Yet you are quite wonderful dancing," he said. "I have been
watching you for some time."
"It is one of my expiring efforts," she declared, sinking into
the chair by his side. "You know whose party it is, of course?
Old Lady Torrington's. Quite a boy and girl affair. Twenty-four
of us had dinner in the worst corner of the room. I can hear the
old lady ordering the dinner now. Charles with a long menu. She
shakes her head and taps him on the wrist with her fan.
'Monsieur Charles, I am a poor woman. Give me what there is--a
small, plain dinner--and charge me at your minimum.' The dinner
was very small and very plain, the champagne was horribly sweet.
My partner talked of a new drill, his last innings for the
Household Brigade, and a wonderful round of golf he played last
Sunday week. I was turned on to dance with a man who asked me to
marry him, a year ago, and I could feel him vibrating with
gratitude, as he looked at me, that I had refused. I suppose I
am very haggard."
"Does that matter, nowadays?" Sir Timothy asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
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