"If you were twenty or twenty-five years younger, it might do."
Leicester laughed outright.
"Well, as I am too old for a rival, perhaps you will show me where the lady is; I have never seen her yet."
"What—never seen Mrs. Gordon, the beautiful Mrs. Gordon! I thought you old chaps were keener on the scent. I know half a hundred young gentlemen dead in for it."
"Then there is certainly no chance for me."
"I should rather think not," replied the youth, smiling complacently at his own reflection in an opposite mirror; "especially without costume. A dress like this, now, is a sort of thing that takes with women."
Leicester was getting weary of the youth.
"Well," he said, "if you will not aid me, I must find the lady myself."
"Oh, wait till the crowd leaves us an opening. There, the music strikes up—they are off for the waltz; now you have a good view; isn't she superb?"
For one moment a cloud came over Leicester's eyes. He swept his gloved hand over them, and now he saw clearly.