“Was it at random? I set a whole night apart to weep about it.”
“You had nothing better to do, then?”
“The most miserable of all states, you must acknowledge. And through no fault of my own.”
“Whose, then?”
“Yours. You have much to be answerable for, Mr. Barringcourt.”
He laughed. “I have expiated most of my offences to-night; I have danced the polka.”
“With Miss Sebberen. I saw you.”
“Let us go into some quieter room. This dancing wearies me. I never was fond of it.”
Rosalie’s trailing dress hid her feet, and they passed into the picture-gallery. It was deserted.
She sat down under the picture of Geoffrey Todbrook.