With an awful aching of the heart she sank into a seat and hid her face in her hands.
What right had she there—she, the ignorant, untaught forest girl, among these grand people? Even supposing that he saw her he would not remember her, and if he did he would not care to waste a glance or a word on her, while such a beautiful creature as Lady Bell was willing to refuse a duke for his sake.
Suddenly the brilliant scene seemed to grow dark and joyless; the music sounded harsh and out of tune; all the beauty had vanished, and she longed to be sitting in the depths of Warden Forest.
“Your partner doesn’t seem to turn up,” said Jack. “He’s an ungrateful idiot.”
Lady Bell laughed and sank down in a fauteuil just in front of the recess.
“I forgive him,” she said, and she swept her skirts aside to make room for him.
Jack sat down, not gratefully, but quite courtly.
Lady Bell was silent for a moment, then she said:
“I would have sent a card for your friend, but I could not remember his name.”
“Oh, Len,” said Jack, shaking his head. “I’m afraid he would not have come. He never goes out—at least not to this sort of thing. He’s a book worm, and doesn’t care for the gaieties. His name is Leonard Dagle.”