“I didn’t know it was Miss Landcraft,” he replied, although he knew it very well, and resolved to find out who the Scotsman was, speedily and completely.
“My enchanted hour will soon pass,” said the Scot, when that dance was done, “and I have been looking the world over for you.”
“Dancing all the way?” she asked him lightly.
“Far from it,” he answered, his voice still muffled and low.
They were standing withdrawn a little from the press in the room after their second dance, when Major King came by. The major was a cavalier in drooping hat, with white satin cape, and sword by his side, and well enough known to all his friends in spite of the little spat of mustache and beard. As the major passed he jostled the Scot with his shoulder with a rudeness openly intentional.
The major turned, and spoke an apology. Frances felt the Highlander’s muscles swell suddenly where her hand lay on his arm, but whatever had sprung into his mind he repressed, and acknowledged the major’s apology with a lofty nod.
The music for another dance was beginning, and couples were whirling out upon the floor.
“I don’t care to dance again just now, delightfully as you carry a clumsy one like me through—”
“A self-disparagement, even, can’t stand unchallenged,” he interrupted.