“You will dance again with me?”
“I must go so early.”
“Must you?”
“To-morrow morning early I go abroad.”
19
“Hullo!”
“Where were you all that last dance?”
Nan Babington’s voice startled her as they came into the bright hall through the open front door.
She smiled towards Nan, sitting drearily with a brilliant smile on her face watching the dancers from a long chair drawn up near the drawing-room door, and passed on into the room with her hand on her partner’s arm. They had missed a dance and an interval. It must have been a Lancers and now there was another waltz.