“You have another dance on New Year’s Eve, Mr. Barringcourt?”
“Yes. You will come? It is the one night in the whole year worth dancing on.”
“I would come gladly; but I can find no dress to my liking.”
“You have a week before you.”
She clasped her hands round her knee, shook her head and looked at him.
“I won’t come unless I can wear exactly what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“The dress that Mariana was making long ago. But I expect she’s finished it, and the moths have eaten it away. But all the same, I won’t come unless I have it. It is the one thing on earth I’ve set my heart upon.”
Mr. Barringcourt looked at her. The pretty air of reasonless determination suited her.
“It’s impossible,” said he.