“Oh, it isn’t as undying as all that! It needs to be revived sometimes with fresh flowers.”
“It’s a little too complicated for me to think it out now,” and Patty smiled at him, roguishly. “Besides, here are more suitors approaching; so if you’ll please give me back my card, Mr. Kenton,—though I don’t believe there’s room for another one.”
“Not one?” said the man who took it, disappointedly; for sure enough, every space was filled. “But there’ll be an extra or two. May I have one of those?”
“Oh, I never arrange those in advance,” said Patty. “My partners take their chances on those. But I’ll give you half of this dance,” and she calmly cut in two the one dance against which Philip Van Reypen had set his aristocratic initials.
Then the dancing began, and what with the fine music, the perfect floor, and usually good partners, Patty enjoyed herself thoroughly. She loved dancing, and being accomplished in all sorts of fancy dances, could learn any new or intricate steps in a moment.
After a few dances she found herself whirling about the room with Roger, and she determined to carry out her plan of reconciling him and Mona. Mr. Lansing was not at the dance, for Elise had positively declined to invite him; and so, though Mona was there, she was rather cool to Elise, and favoured Roger only with a distant bow as a greeting.
“You and Mona are acting like two silly idiots,” was Patty’s somewhat definite manner of beginning her conversation.
“You think so?” said Roger, as he guided her skilfully round another couple who were madly dashing toward them.
“Yes, I do. And, Roger, I want you to take my advice and make up with her.”
“I’ve nothing to make up.”