“I can hear the music again.”
“But the next dance is ours.”
“No.”
“You promised. Look—your name.” He offered his programme, sure that she would not examine it or remember the number of the dance.
And she said without looking, “I can’t dance now.”
He answered as if he were stroking her. “Ah, you are trembling. What is the matter? Have I frightened you?”
“Frightened?” The sound of her own laugh restored her calmness. “What is there to be frightened of? But see,” she went on, holding out her programme, “I am sure you have made a mistake. This dance is Mr. Lynwood’s.”
John was coming up the stairs towards them. “Then I will find you again a little later,” said Ordith, and disappeared.
“What has happened?” John asked, looking into her face, which had now grown pale.
“Happened? Nothing—oh, nothing. I was a little tired, that’s all.”