"More fools they! shall I ever see the proud day, when a girl howls, because I haven't asked her to dance? Look here, Nancy," and his voice took a certain peremptoriness, "don't have anything to do with that chap Villars,—he is not a safe acquaintance!"
Nancy made no reply, and apparently assuming that silence gave consent, he continued—"I see our old friend Cathcart here, no doubt repairing his shattered nerves, after a spasm of work! He appears to be in great force. You have not favoured him,—how is that?"
"He didn't ask me for a dance."
"What!" staring at her. "Oh, so you've had a row!"
"Not exactly a row," and she hesitated.
"Exactly what? come, own up, we are not likely to have another interview, for some time."
"Well then if you must know,—he asked me to marry him!"
"To marry him!" echoed her companion, now no longer nursing his foot, and sitting erect.
"And was very angry indeed, when I said no, in fact he has cut me dead ever since."
For some time Mayne was silent, at last he said: