“Would you care to dance, Mrs. DeLacy, or would you prefer sitting it out?” asked Hugh.
“Oh, let’s talk,” Geraldine replied eagerly. “I can always dance, but—” Her eyes were full of meaning. Hugh linked her arm within his and led her out to one of the verandahs.
“Will you have a wrap?” he inquired solicitously.
“Thank you, no,—the night is glorious.”
“This seems cozy,” Hugh said, as he drew up two wicker easy chairs beside a row of potted palms.
They were at the farthest end of the verandah. Music floated out from the ballroom, the soft rays of the moon slanted toward them, and the fragrance of the sweet peas and roses was wafted up from the sunken gardens.
Geraldine heaved a little sigh of contentment and settled back in her chair: “I’m sorry to have made you miss your dance with Elinor.”
“The pleasure of meeting you has entirely recompensed me,” Hugh replied gallantly.
“How lovely of you to say that.” Geraldine stared at Hugh so openly for a few moments, that he found himself blushing like a school-girl.
“I—I—beg your pardon,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to stare so rudely, only I just can’t realize it.”