“Your inference is not very flattering. But in that ‘case unprecedented’ you may have the dance with pleasure,” rejoined Alice with a smile.
“You are not a bride, are you?” he asked anxiously, after a moment’s silence.
“Oh no; I’ve been married more than three years,” she returned with some dignity.
“And may I ask if you always dance with your husband at balls?”
“Never, as yet, since we have been married,” she replied, looking down and surveying the toe of her slender satin shoe, with critical inspection.
“Well, mind you don’t throw me over. Let us sit down here at the end of the room till the band strikes up.”
Presently the strains of “Brises des Nuits” was heard, recalling wandering dancers.
“Look, Lady Fairfax! here’s a good-looking young hussar coming over here. I know he is going to ask you to dance. Remember your promise.”
“Where is he?” she asked indifferently.
“There, in the middle of the room. He has stopped to speak to that little artillery-man with the sandy moustache. Don’t you see him? A handsome, determined-looking fellow. I saw a fixed purpose in his eye just now, but you won’t hear of it, will you? Here he comes.”