"You don't look" I say with inquisitive reproach, "as though you enjoyed it one bit."
A curious smile passes over Sir Mark's face.
"Don't I?" he replies, quietly.
"No. Decidedly the reverse even. Of course"—with a considerable amount of pique—"You could have found plenty of better dancers among the people here."
"Perhaps I could; although you must permit me to doubt it. I only know I would rather have you for a partner than any one else in the room."
I am not proof against flattery, A smile is born and grows steadily round my lips, until at length my whole face beams.
"Well, you might try to appear more contented," I say, with a last feeble attempt at remonstrance. "When I get what I want I always look pleased."
"I know you do. But I am a thankless being; the more I get the more I want. When a man is starving, to give him a little only adds to the pangs he suffers—-"
The last bars of the waltz died out with a lingering wailing sigh. A little hush falls. . . . Sir George Ashurst, coming up, offers me his arm.
"You will let me put my name down for another before you go?" asks Sir Mark, hurriedly, following us a few steps.