"You said, 'Sir, something tells me that we shall be great friends. I like your face, and I like the way your tie goes under your left ear. I cannot give you ALL the dances on the programme, because I have my mother with me to-night, and you know what mothers are. They NOTICE. But anything up to half a dozen, distributed at such intervals that one's guardians will think it's the same dance, you are heartily welcome to. And if you care to take me in to supper, there is—I have the information straight from the stable—a line in unbreakable meringues which would well be worth our attention.' That's what you said."
"But what a memory!"
"I can remember more than that. I can rememher the actual struggle. I got my meringue down on the mat, both shoulders touching, in one minute, forty-three seconds."
The band died slowly down until no sound could be heard above the rustle of frocks … and suddenly everybody realized that it had stopped.
"Bother," said Miss Middleton.
"That's just like a band," I said bitterly.
"I'll tell it to go on again; it's MY band."
"It will be your devoted band if you ask it prettily enough."
Miss Middleton went away, and came back to the sound of music, looking rather pleased with herself.
"Did you give him the famous smile?" I asked. "Yes, that one."