“No, it is a waltz.”
Now, I found myself in a most disagreeable dilemma. For Ronnie’s sake I must not offend this creature; for the sake of my own self-respect nothing would induce me to waltz with him.
“You may have a square, number thirteen,” I said haughtily. Balthasar rolled his eyes alarmingly, and became a shade more sallow, but rallied and said:
“Thank you, Miss Lingard; half a loaf is better than no bread,” and without another word he retired.
During this little scene Captain Falkland had stood beside me in rigid silence. I thought he might have helped me out. In some ways an A.D.C. is expected to be ready with expedients. But no, he remained stiff and immovable, as if he had been a figure in armour.
“Just one more turn before the band stops,” he said, and I was whirled away.
When the waltz was over we strolled into the great veranda to look for seats, and came to a large chintz-covered lounge on which Sally Payne was enthroned in conspicuous solitude. As usual, she was beautifully dressed and wore a string of fine and unquestionably real pearls. When we approached she patted the seat beside her, and I sat down.
“Hallo, Sally!” said Captain Falkland. “Patience on a monument, and all alone! What does it mean?”
“It means that I have sent my partner to fetch me an ice. Did you know that Captain Falkland and I are cousins?”—addressing me. “He did not recognise me at first because I had changed my name, although I am still ‘an unappropriated blessing.’ Formerly I was Sally Rivers. A relation died and left me a fortune”—and she touched her pearls significantly—“and the name of Payne. So for once pain brought pleasure! I remember Falkland as a dreadful little boy. I had not seen him for twenty years until the other day; he has grown up better than I expected.”
“Sorry I can’t return the compliment, Sally,” he broke in. “It is most unseemly for you to be privateering round the world all by yourself.”