"A thousand pardons, gracious friend," he retorted meekly, "the sight of that lovely lady who did my poor country so much harm brought words to my tongue which should have remained unspoken in your presence."
"I expect you would be interested to meet Rosemary," said the practical Miss Fairfax, with her slightly malicious smile. "You might convert her, you know."
"My only wish would be," General Naniescu replied with obvious sincerity, "to make her see the truth. It would indeed be an honour to pay my devoirs to the lovely 'Uno.'"
"I can arrange that for you easily enough," rejoined Lady Orange.
She leaned over the edge of the box, and with that playful gesture which seemed habitual to her she tapped with her fan the shoulder of a man who was standing just below, talking to a friend.
"When this dance is over, George," she said to him, "tell Rosemary Fowkes to come into my box."
"Tell her that a distinguished Roumanian desires to lay his homage at her feet," Miss Fairfax added bluntly.
"Do you think Sir George will prevail on the divinity?" the general asked eagerly.
Just then the dance was over, the coloured musicians ceased to bawl, and there was a general movement and confusion down below through which Sir George Orange, ever obedient to his wife's commands, could be seen vainly striving to find a beautiful needle in a tumbled and unruly haystack. He came back to the side of his wife's box after a while.
"I can't find her," he said apologetically. "She has probably gone to get an ice or something. Tarkington was also looking for her."