CHAPTER III.
MR. CROLY’S STUDY.
“Love the gift, is love the debt.”
“Like bitter accusation, even to death,
Caught up the whole of love, and uttered it.”
Mrs. Jackson-Croly’s party had reached its climax of success.
“The supper’s put great heart into them,” little Dr. Kelly remarked confidentially to Willy, as he passed us, leading a stout elderly matron forth to the dance. The chaperons, with but few exceptions, had abandoned the hard chairs and narrow sofas on which they had hitherto huddled in chilly discomfort, and were, again to quote Dr. Kelly, “footing it with the best of them.”
Mrs. Croly herself was playing “Sweethearts,” and by way, as I suppose, of receiving this favour with proper enthusiasm, the guests, as they danced, sang the words of the refrain—
“Oh, lo—ove for a year,
A we—eek, a day,”
as often as it recurred, Mrs. Croly from the piano lending her powerful aid to swell the chorus. Madam O’Neill was sitting alone upon her sofa, and had closed her eyes during this later development of the entertainment, whether in real or simulated slumber I did not know; but an expressive glance from Connie, whom, to my surprise, I saw circling in the arms of our host, told me that the latter was more probably the case. The O’Neill I had lately espied sitting in an armchair on the landing of the stairs with a very pretty young lady, the instructress of the younger Misses Jackson-Croly. He, at all events, was enjoying himself, and as far as he was concerned I felt none of the qualms of conscience at the lateness of the hour which assailed me at sight of my chaperon’s tired face.
Willy had not spoken since we had begun to dance, but I thought it best to behave as if nothing were the matter.