Adrien sank on to the velvet lounge beside the Countess.
"Don't scold me, belle amie," he said in his soft tones; "lay the blame on Mr. Paxhorn. I dined with him at the club. You know what Paxhorn is--there was simply no getting away. But, now, have you saved me a dance?"
"You do not deserve one," she said, all the irritation melting beneath the magic of his smile and the music of his voice.
"It's a mercy," he retorted lightly, "that one does not get all one's deserts in this world!"
"I saved you the next," she said, giving him her programme. "You see, I am as foolishly forgiving as ever."
"You are gracious and sweet!" he murmured in her ear. "How could you ever be otherwise?"
The soft phrase passed unreproved.
"You have been down to Barminster again?" she inquired.
"Yes," he replied, as he settled himself more comfortably.
"You have been very attentive to your father lately," she said a little suspiciously; "I thought filial affection was not the Leroys' strong point."