Miss Murray and Eugene have been explaining the figures to her, even to the extent of practising them in the library, where they idled away much of the afternoon.
"You will try it with me?" Eugene pleads. "I know I can find a partner for Miss Murray."
"No, you must take Miss Murray; some other time we will—yes, you must," peremptorily. "She is my especial guest. I am her chaperone, you know, and am duty bound to provide her with the best and handsomest partner I can find."
"Do you really think so? Then for the sake of the compliment I must do my best."
She smiles upon him, and the young man is unwillingly persuaded. Miss Murray cannot remain forever, but Violet is a part of the present life, and he does not mean that she shall slip out of his reach. Nothing on his part shall crowd her out.
The rooms are lovely, the night and the music enchanting. Violet's face grows unconsciously wistful as she listens and watches the dancers taking their places. Eugene comes for a word.
"I hate to leave you," he declares. "Are you just going to stand and look on?"
She waves him away to his duty, but other eyes note the reluctance.
"Are you not going to allow Mrs. Grandon to dance?" asks madame, in a soft, half-reproachful tone. "She stands there looking like a Peri at the gate, forbidden to enter youth's paradise."
"She is not forbidden," answers Grandon, quickly, with a nervous sense of marital tyranny which he repudiates now and always.