She withdrew it hastily, and, ogling and gesticulating, he bowed himself out, followed by the manager.
Leaning against the chair, her figure outlined by the glow from the crystal chandelier, her face in shadow, the hand the diplomat had pressed to his lips resting in the exposed light on the mahogany, the gaiety went out of her face, and the young girl wearily brushed the hair from her brow. As if unaware of the soldier’s presence, she glanced absently at the table 339 in its wrecked glory, and, throwing her lace wrap over her arm, was moving toward the door, when he spoke.
“Miss Carew!”
She paused, standing with clasped hands before him, while the scarf slipped from her arm and fell at her feet.
“May I not also tell you how glad I am––that you succeeded to-night?”
“I dislike congratulations!” she said, indifferently.
He looked at her quickly, but her eyes expressed only apathy. In his a sudden gleam of light appeared.
“From me, you mean?” The light became brighter.
She did not answer. His self-control was fast ebbing.
“You underestimate your favors, if you fancy they are easily forgotten!”