He halted a moment on one of the steps, fixed the monocle to his left eye, and lordly surveyed the two groups.
After evidently satisfying himself as to their personnel, he deliberately removed the monocle from his eye and resumed his passage down the steps. “Miss Thorpe here, and Mr. Harris, and Mrs. Thorpe, and the fair Hazel”—and ignoring Corway, he went on—“then I shall have no need to commune alone with my thoughts.”
“I am sure my Lord Beauchamp is too much of a devotee to the ‘tripping muse’ to absent himself very long from the ball-room?” volunteered Constance.
“Indeed it would be difficult for me to enjoy myself for any length of time away from the place where, as Byron puts it, ‘Youth and Beauty meet, to chase the glowing hours with flying feet.’” And moving over to Hazel, he said: “By the way, you have promised me the pleasure of dancing with you the next waltz.”
“Indeed!” replied the maid, eyeing him archly, “the honor of a waltz with my lord is too rare a favor to be neglected.”
The gracious and suave smile with which Rutley answered her was not at all appreciated by Mr. Corway.
And as Rutley glanced his way, their eyes met. Virginia saw it. She instantly grasped the full meaning of that glance—the deadly hatred of rivals.
Rutley, with familiarity begotten of mutual esteem, as he fondly hoped, linked Hazel’s yielding arm in his and led her toward the piazza. “By the way,” and he spoke very confidently, “Mr. Corway seems to have a warm attachment for Mrs. Thorpe”—
The girl halted and looked questioningly at him.
“I mean,” continued Rutley, in a sort of apologetic tone, “he is apparently quite the lion with her.”