"And except me," added Mrs. East. "You forgot me, didn't you?"
"Never!" I insisted. "You could be engaged to a dozen men any moment, if you wanted to."
"I think you're exaggerating a little, Lord Ernest," Cleopatra replied modestly and unsmilingly. But her countenance brightened faintly. "Of course there are a few men—there were some in New York—"
"You don't need to tell me that," I assured her.
"I feel as if I'd like to tell you something else," she went on, "if you can spare a few minutes."
"Will you sit out the next dance?" I asked. "It isn't a Bunny Hug or Tango, or anything distracting for lookers-on."
"Aren't you dancing with Brigit?"
"No such luck—I mean, fortunately not. She has grabbed Slatin Pasha, and forgotten that I exist. By jove, there come Miss Gilder and Fenton. What a couple! They're rather gorgeous, waltzing together—what?"
"Very nice," said Cleopatra, trying with all her over-amuleted heart, not to be acid. "But oh, Lord Ernest, that settles it! I must be engaged myself, before Monny brings him to show me, like a cat with a mouse it's caught. Otherwise I couldn't stand it; and afterward would be too late."
Hastily I rushed her out into the garden, where the Shoebill regarded her with one eye of prehistoric wisdom. If she really were a reincarnation, I'm sure he knew it: and had probably belonged to her in Alexandria, when she was Queen.