"Quite well." And the brilliant face answers for her.
"Then you are not enjoying yourself. You young people ought to be up in every set."
"I did dance. But I like to look on. The figures are so graceful, and the music is bewitching."
"It seems unnatural for one of your age to be merely a spectator. How lovely Eugene and Mrs. Carpenter look together! She is just about your size and dances with the verve of youth, which I admire extremely. Gravity at that age always seems far-fetched, put on as a sort of garment to hide something not quite frank or open, but it never can conceal the fact that it covers thoughts foreign to youth."
Violet wonders if she has been unduly grave this evening. She has something to conceal, a sweet, sacred secret that only one person may inquire into. Will he, some day? He has never yet asked her the lover's question to which it would be so sweet to reply.
"There," exclaims Eugene, sitting down beside her, "I have done my duty. The very next waltz, remember."
The last is in a whisper, and it brings the bright color to her face, brighter because madame's eyes are upon her; but fortunately for her peace, madame is wanted.
"Do you know," says Eugene, "I am very glad you married Floyd, for I do think it would have ended by his taking her; not that he cared particularly, and the queer thing was that Cecil would not make friends with her; but she is the kind of woman who generally gets everything she tries for. And I do believe she envies you your home and your husband."
"Oh!" cries Violet, much abashed, "do not say so. It seems to me there is nothing that she can envy or desire."
"Don't believe the half of that, little innocent! Oh, listen, this measure is perfection! Come."