He gave her a short stare, opened his lips as if to speak, then turned abruptly aside and began picking mechanically at the blossoms before him.
“I, of course, do not know what men mean when they talk of possessing points. But the leer and side glance which accompanies such talk, have a universal language we all understand, and I felt that I must warn you of that man’s malice if only because papa regards you so highly.”
He shrank as if touched on a sore place, but bowed and answered the wistful appeal of her glance with a shadow of his usual smile, then he turned, and looking towards the door through which the two men had disappeared, made a movement as if he would follow. But remembering himself, escorted her to a seat, saying as he did so:
“You are very kind, Miss Stuyvesant; please say nothing of this to Paula.”
She bowed and a flitting smile crossed her upturned countenance. “I am not much of a gossip, Mr. Sylvester, or I should have been tempted to have carried my information to my father instead of to you.”
He understood the implied promise in this remark and gave the hand on his arm a quick pressure, before relinquishing her to the care of the pale-complexioned youth who by this time had returned to her side.
In another moment Paula came up on the arm of a black-whiskered gentleman all shirt front and eye-glasses. “O Cicely,” she cried, (she called Miss Stuyvesant, Cicely now) “is it not a delightful evening?”
“Are you enjoying yourself so much?” inquired that somewhat agitated little lady, with a glance at the countenance of her friend’s attendant.
“I fear it would scarcely seem consistent in me now to say no,” returned the radiant girl, with a laughing glance towards the same gentleman.
But when they were alone, the gentleman having departed on some of the innumerable errands with which ladies seem to delight in afflicting their attendant cavaliers at balls or receptions, she atoned for that glance by remarking,