CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Théo arrived rather late, and after making his bow to his hostess, came straight to her. His fine young face was flushed and eager and his eyes very bright.
Brigit, who was standing talking to Maytopp, felt her heart sink. She had not yet decided what to say, and instinctively she looked round the room for Joyselle.
"Brigit—will you dance?" Théo bowed, a trifle lower than Englishmen bow, and offered her his arm with the very slightest suggestion of swagger. And somehow he reminded her at that moment more of his father than he had ever done.
He did not speak as they danced, but she knew that he was fairly confident of her answer being a favourable one, and she tried to think that the waltz was never going to end.
But it did end, and she found herself near the window leading to the balcony where she had talked with his father early in the evening.
"Brigit——" he whispered gently, looking out into the darkness.
And then she heard herself answer: "Yes, Théo. But—ask your father what he and I have decided."
"Ask papa!"