The waltz came to an end all too soon, and as Drake led her to a seat, young Maltby approached her with two young fellows. She was the prettiest girl in the room, though she was the simplest dressed, and the men were anxious to secure her.
Drake hastily scribbled his initials on several lines of her program, then had to resign her to her next partner, and, in discharge of his duty, seek a partner for himself.
Lady Maltby introduced him to a daughter of a local squire, a fresh young girl, with all a country girl's frankness.
"What a pretty girl that was with whom you were dancing!" she said, as they started. "She is really lovely!"
"And yet they say that women never admire each other," he remarked.
"Do you mean that?" she asked, looking up at him with her frank, blue eyes. "What nonsense! I love to see a pretty woman; and I quite looked forward to coming here to-night, because we are to have a famous London beauty."
"Oh! Which one?" asked Drake absently; his eyes were following Nell, who happened to look across at him at the moment, and who smiled the smile which a woman only accords her lover.
"I don't remember her name," said the girl. "But she is very beautiful, I am told; though I find it hard to believe that she can be lovelier than she is," and she nodded in Nell's direction.
Drake felt very friendly toward the girl.
"She is as good as she is beautiful," he said; then, as the triteness and significance of the words struck him, he laughed slightly.