"Our English social institutions," Darrell said aside to Lord Watergate; "the private view, where every one goes; the conversazione, where no one talks."
Lord Watergate laughed, and went back to Gertrude, to propose an attack on the buffet, by way of diversion; and Sidney, with his inscrutable air of utter purposelessness, made his way through the crowd to where Phyllis stood in conversation with two young men.
Some paces off from her he paused, and stood in silence, looking at her.
Phyllis shot her glance to his, half-petulant, half-supplicating, like that of a child.
It was late in the evening, and this was the first attempt he had made to approach her. Darrell advanced a step or two, and Phyllis lowered her eyes, with a sudden and vivid blush.
"At last," said Darrell, in a low voice, as the two young men instinctively moved off before him.
"You are just in time to say 'good-night' to me, Mr. Darrell."
Darrell smiled, with his face close to hers. His smile was considered attractive—
"Seeming more generous for the coldness gone."
"It is not 'good-night,' but 'good-bye,' that I have come to say."