The man said:
"I know she's been called the most beautiful American in England. But I never thought so till to-night."
Sophy herself wondered if this queer, super-vitalised sensation that she had was happiness. She could not tell. She was only one throb of exultation at being alive.
A voice spoke close beside her.
"Will you dance this with me?" Amaldi was asking.
And as she moved off with him, it seemed as if they had often danced together before.
When they stopped they found themselves near the conservatory.
"Let us sit in there a while," she said.
They sat down near a bank of gardenias, and Amaldi fanned her with her fan of white peacock feathers.
"You're not afraid to use peacock's feathers?" he asked, smiling. "In Italy we are superstitious about them."