"At least let me stay and talk to you."
"I shall be glad of that. You never met any one with such a rooted objection to her own society as I have," I answer, laughing.
Then the strain loosens; the smile dies off my lips. How ardently do I long to be alone! Why does not this man get up and leave me? At all events, Marmaduke will see I have repented of my ill temper, and am not dancing.
As I sit moodily staring through the window at the gay scene within, it so happens the Duke of Chillington, with one or two other men, passes slowly by.
"Our cousin of Chillington," says Sir Mark, with an amused air—he is a second cousin of his Grace—"has expressed himself enraptured with his hostess."
I raise my eyebrows and betray some slight surprise.
"I think you must mistake. When speaking to him, in the earlier part of the evening, he gave me to understand—politely, it is true, but none the less plainly—that he considered me a very mediocre sort of person."
"In that case I fear we must believe his lordship to be an arch old hypocrite, as he told me he thought your manner and expression above all praise."
"Well, I think him a very stupid old gentleman," I reply, ungraciously.
Sir Mark turns his eyes upon me thoughtfully.