She smiled slowly. "Of course I don't know," she said, "I haven't tried yet; but I never pretend. I don't even pretend to like my dress for the ball. It is so stupid."
He felt annoyed at being led into a burst of emotion, and then baulked. "You will look charming, I'm sure," he said in his worst manner. "And if you don't like it, change to something jolly after supper. Lots of people do."
"Will Mrs. Smith?" she asked quickly.
He flushed angrily. "I really don't know," he began. Her eyes were on him curiously.
"That's funny," she said. "I thought people--not that it matters," she went on, "for I can't. I haven't a dress. Do you know I never have anything I really like--never."
The girl's voice was absolutely touching in its listless, dull confidence, and he could not help consolation. "You'll have the ball, I'm sure; you will enjoy it awfully, and--and you mustn't forget that you've given me the second waltz, and the first extra after supper."
She did not answer for a moment. "Have I?" she asked. "I didn't know it; but I will. That will be nice. And you are coming to decorate to-morrow, aren't you? That will be nice, too."
Her tone lingered in his ears long after she had gone. It was with him even when he was driving Mrs. Smith home, and, of course, making up their little misunderstanding by the way; possibly, because of this making up, since, for the first time, the elaborate éclaircissement irked him. It seemed so unnecessary unless the whole affair meant something, which was quite out of the question.
For instance, when driving Lance Carlyon back to the Fort afterwards he did not desire an explanation of the latter's moodiness. When a chum was evil-dispositioned, you waited calmly for him to come round. That was friendship.
"I'm sorry Miss Shepherd couldn't come," said Lance, suddenly, his eyes on that spit of sand, with its hovels and logs, below the town. "I wanted her to, awfully, if only because she's never seen a durbar; but"--he smiled--"I expect someone else wanted her instead. By George! Dering, you don't know how that girl works. Sometimes I feel it's a shame, and sometimes I think it's splendid--though of course it don't matter a dash what I think."