II
"Oh, is it our turn at last? I am glad!"
Betty Derwent raised eyes of absolute honesty to the man who had just come to her side, and laid her hand with obvious alacrity upon his arm.
"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself," he said.
"I'm not!" she declared, with vehemence. "It's perfectly horrid. I hope you're not wanting to dance, Major Herne? For I want to sit out, and—and get cool, if possible."
"I want what you want," said Herne. "Shall we go outside?"
"Yes—no! I really don't know. I've only just come in. I want to get away—right away. Can't you think of a quiet corner?"
"Certainly," said Herne, "if it's all one to you where you go."
"I should like to run away," the girl said impetuously, "right away from everybody—except you."
"That's very good of you," said Herne, faintly smiling.