“I have not the slightest inclination to dance, Mr. Barringcourt. I’ve spent one of the most delightfully lazy evenings I ever spent in my life.”
“I envy you. I’ve been going through a species of treadmill. I’ve danced with every school-girl in the room.”
“Myself included. You began the evening badly, you know.”
He sat down beside her.
“Where were you all the supper-time?” he asked.
Rosalie looked at him. She detected the old, tired, wearily contemptuous expression on his face. She herself was far from tired. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink; she had been under no unwilling exertion to please anyone.
“I stayed upstairs to see how long I’d be forgotten, and when no one remembered me, and I grew hungry, I came down.”
“You should have acted the part of the jealous fairy godmother, and blasted us all.”
“Well, though I be a school-girl, yet I’ve none of the attractions of youth, and so I’ve learnt toleration.”
“It’s hardly fair to keep repeating what I once said at random.”