The guests seemed to
belong to no universal social order, but to Francis, watching
them almost eagerly, they all seemed to have something of the
same expression, the same slight air of weariness, of restless
and unsatisfied desires.
"I can't believe that the place is real, or that these people we
see are not supers," Margaret whispered.
"I feel every moment that a clock will strike and that it will
all fade away."
"I'm afraid I'm too material for such imaginings," Francis
replied, "but there is a quaintly artificial air about it all.
We must go and look for Wilmore and Lady Cynthia."
They turned back into the enervating atmosphere of the winter-garden,
and came suddenly face to face with Sir Timothy, who had escorted a
little party of his guests to see the fountain, and was now
returning alone.
"You have been dancing, I am glad to see," the latter observed.
"I trust that you are amusing yourselves?"
"Excellently, thank you," Francis replied.
"And so far," Sir Timothy went on, with a faint smile, "you find
my entertainment normal? You have no question yet which you
would like to ask?"
"Only one--what do you do with your launch up the river on
moonless nights, Sir Timothy?"
Sir Timothy's momentary silence was full of ominous significance.
"Mr.
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