Dick began grinding his white teeth in the corner, where he had been making eyes at Clotilde and Marie in turn, whichever looked in his direction; and for the moment he seemed as if he were going to tear either his curly hair or the dainty exotic from his button-hole.
“Hush! be quiet,” was the reply.
“Hurrah! viva!” whispered Dick again. “The Black Douglas is being tacked on to that old scrag.”
“That old scrag” was the Honourable Philippa Dymcox, and “the Black Douglas” Major Edward Malpas, who, probably from disappointment in connection with a late marriage, was contemplatively watching Clotilde; but his courtesy was perfect as he bent toward the Honourable Philippa.
“Now there’s that other old she-dragon, Glen,” whispered Dick. “Oh, I say, it’s too bad of the old woman! I won’t, that I won’t. I didn’t come here to be treated so, and if she says I’m to march in that dreadful skeleton I’ll be taken ill and make a bolt of it. I say, Marcus,” he continued, “my nose is going to bleed,” and as he spoke he took out his delicately-scented pocket-handkerchief.
“Captain Glen, will you take in the Honourable Isabella Dymcox?” said Lady Littletown, showing just a trifle of gold setting as she smiled.
Marcus Glen told the truth when he said he would be most happy, for he recognised in the lady of the old-fashioned lavender poplin one of the companions of Clotilde and Marie in their walk in the Palace gardens.
Dick Millet thrust his scented cambric back into the pocket of his silk-lined coat, and after a glance at the ladies, either of whom he longed to take in to dinner, he had a look round the room to see which would be the most eligible dinner-table companion of those that were left; but to his disgust he began to find that he was being left entirely in the cold, for the hostess, with all the skill of one who has well made her plans beforehand, was rapidly finishing her arrangements.
“It’s enough to make any man’s nose bleed, and compel him to bolt,” muttered the handsome little fellow, who had got himself up in the most irreproachable manner, having even been to town that afternoon on purpose to place himself in a hairdresser’s hands.
“Hang it all! am I nobody?”