"To tell the truth, I have," the philosopher admitted, bending his head a little.
"I felt certain that you could understand me, or I should never have ventured to tell you such a thing.—There is Miss Bride!"
Constance had taken a seat not far from them, and the man who had been talking with her upstairs was offering her refreshments. Presently, she caught Miss Tomalin's eye, and smiled; a minute or two after, she and her companion came forward to join the other pair, and all re-ascended to the drawing-rooms together. When he had restored his charge to her chaperon, Lashmar took the hint of discretion and retired into the throng. There amid, he encountered Iris Woolstan, her eyes wide in search.
"So you are here!" she exclaimed, with immediate change of countenance. "I despaired of ever seeing you. What a crush!"
"Horrible, isn't it. I've had enough; I must breathe the air."
"Oh, stay a few minutes. I know so few people. Are Lady Ogram and her niece here?"
"Lady Ogram, I think not. I caught a glimpse of Miss Tomalin somewhere or other, sternly chaperoned."
He lied gaily, for the talk with May had put him into a thoroughly blithe humour.
"I should so like to see her," said Iris. "Don't you think you could point her out, if we went about a little."
"Let us look for her by all means. Have you been to the supper-room? She may be there."