"And your heart full of gold?" she mocked.

"Of h.e.l.l!" he replied briefly.

Alice looked at him searchingly.

"And am I like a blue-bottle buzzing in your window to keep your company?" she asked.

He laughed.

"Good-bye," she said, slipping down and leaving him.

"Don't go," he said-but too late.

The irruption of Alice into the quiet, sentimental party was like taking a bright light into a sleeping hen-roost. Everybody jumped up and wanted to do something. They cried out for a dance.

"Emily-play a waltz-you won't mind, will you, George? What! You don't dance, Tom? Oh, Marie!"

"I don't mind, Lettie," protested Marie.

"Dance with me, Alice," said George, smiling "and Cyril will take Miss Tempest."

"Glory!-come on-do or die!" said Alice.

We began to dance. I saw Lettie watching, and I looked round. George was waltzing with Alice, dancing pa.s.sably, laughing at her remarks. Lettie was not listening to what her lover was saying to her; she was watching the laughing pair. At the end she went to George.

"Why!" she said, "You can--"

"Did you think I couldn't?" he said. "You are pledged for a minuet and a valeta with me-you remember?"

"Yes."

"You promise?"

"Yes. But--"

"I went to Nottingham and learned."

"Why-because?-Very well, Leslie, a mazurka. Will you play it, Emily-Yes, it is quite easy. Tom, you look quite happy talking to the Mater."

We danced the mazurka with the same partners. He did it better than I expected-without much awkwardness-but stiffly. However, he moved quietly through the dance, laughing and talking abstractedly all the time with Alice.

Then Lettie cried a change of partners, and they took their valeta.

There was a little triumph in his smile.

"Do you congratulate me?" he said.

"I am surprised," she answered.

"So am I. But I congratulate myself."

"Do you? Well, so do I."

"Thanks! You're beginning at last."

"What?" she asked.

"To believe in me."

"Don't begin to talk again," she pleaded sadly, "nothing vital."

"Do you like dancing with me?" he asked

"Now, be quiet-_that's_ real," she replied.

"By Heaven, Lettie, you make me laugh!"

"Do I?" she said-"What if you married Alice-soon."

"I-Alice!-Lettie!! Besides, I've only a hundred pounds in the world, and no prospects whatever. That's why-well-I shan't marry anybody-unless its somebody with money."

"I've a couple of thousand or so of my own--"

"Have you? It would have done nicely," he said smiling.

"You are different to-night," she said, leaning on him.

"Am I?" he replied-"It's because things are altered too. They're settled one way now-for the present at least."

"Don't forget the two steps this time," said she smiling, and adding seriously, "You see, I couldn't help it."

"No, why not?"

"Things! I have been brought up to expect it-everybody expected it-and you're bound to do what people expect you to do-you can't help it. We can't help ourselves, we're all chess-men," she said.

"Ay," he agreed, but doubtfully.

"I wonder where it will end," she said.

"Lettie!" he cried, and his hand closed in a grip on her's.

"Don't-don't say anything-it's no good now, it's too late. It's done; and what is done, is done. If you talk any more, I shall say I'm tired and stop the dance. Don't say another word."

He did not-at least to her. Their dance came to an end. Then he took Marie who talked winsomely to him. As he waltzed with Marie he regained his animated spirits. He was very lively the rest of the evening, quite astonishing and reckless. At supper he ate everything, and drank much wine.

"Have some more turkey, Mr. Saxton."

"Thanks-but give me some of that stuff in brown jelly, will you? It's new to me."