“Perhaps, when I know you better, I may change my opinion of your plainness. Will you dance now?”
The music had been playing for some moments, and signifying her assent, Patty rose, and they joined the dancers who were circling the floor. Mr. Everson was a fine dancer, but he was all unprepared for Patty’s exquisite perfection in the art.
“Why, Miss Fairfield,” he said, unable to suppress his admiration, “I didn’t know anybody danced like you, except professionals.”
“Oh, yes, I’m a good dancer,” said Patty, carelessly; “and so are you, for that matter. Do you think they’ve made up?”
“Who?”
“Miss Galbraith and Mr. Farrington. See, we’re just passing them. Oh, I’m afraid they haven’t!”
It was difficult to judge by the glance they obtained in passing, but Patty declared that both Mona’s and Roger’s faces looked like thunder clouds.
“Give them a little longer,” said Mr. Everson, who began to see how matters stood.
“Perhaps another round, and we will find them smiling into each other’s eyes.”
But when they next circled the long room, Mona and Roger were nowhere to be seen.