Pete looked her in the eye and speculated.
"I think I am not mistaken," said Nell, after she had waited sufficiently for an answer. "May I ask, then, if it is customary for valets to dance with the guests of their employers?"
"Madam," said Pete, "may I in turn ask by what authority you question me?"
"There is nothing mysterious about my position in this house," replied Nell. "I am here as an assistant to Miss—Norcross." It was annoying to stumble over the name. "Miss Marshall understands perfectly; I am here at her request. I think you will do a very wise thing if you retire to the gentlemen's dressing-room and remain there. Am I clear?"
It was Pete's first glimpse at close hand of the social secretary's aide. It did not bore him in the least. He might have described her pallor as "interesting," had he been prone to commonplaces. Her eyes, he thought, were even better than those of Arnold Gibbs's little girl; they were not so vivid, perhaps, yet more deeply luminous.
"Let us debate this matter," he said. "Will you sit down?"
"Certainly not!"
"Aw, let's."
He spoke with a disarming persuasion, but Nell refused to be seated.
"Will you go up-stairs at once?" she demanded.