"If you do go to this dance, may I consider myself engaged to you for the first waltz?" There is quite a frown upon his face as he says this; but it hasn't the faintest effect upon Monica. She is not at all impressed, and is, in fact enjoying herself immensely.
"If I go, which is more than improbable, I shall certainly not dance with you at all," she says, calmly, "because Aunt Priscilla will be there too, and she would not hear of my doing even a mild quadrille with a Desmond."
"I see," with a melancholy assumption of composure. "All your dances, then, are to be reserved for Ryde."
"If Mr. Ryde asks me to dance, of course I shall not refuse."
"You mean to tell me"—even the poor assumption is now gone—"that you are going to give him all and me none?"
"I shall not give any one all: how can you talk like that? But I cannot defy Aunt Priscilla. It is very unkind of you to desire it. I suppose you think I should enjoy being tormented from morning till night all about you?"
"Certainly not. I don't want you to be tormented on any account, and, above all on mine," very stiffly. "To prevent anything of the kind, I shall not go to Cobbett's dance."
"If you choose to get into a bad temper I can't help you."
"I am not in a bad temper, and even if I were I have cause. But it is not temper will prevent my going to the Barracks."
"What then?"