“I am at your service, ma’m’selle. But three new young men and a pretty girl—you do me great honor,” and he made a bow, with an odd, amused smile.
“Do you suppose I am going to stand around and cast wistful eyes at these strangers?” she cried with pretty, mock indignation. “And I shall be in the very first dance, too.”
“I am made supremely happy, ma’m’selle.”
“And if there is any—if you see me looking—well, disconsolate, you will ask me again.”
There was a charming imperiousness in her tone.
“I will obey, ma’m’selle, with great delight.”
“And—André, who will be the prettiest girl there?”
“Merci! Little one, how can I make a choice?”
“I will tell you: Lucie Aubry, and she will dance with the Secretary the first thing.”
“Lucie Aubry has not all the beauty of St. Louis.”