He tightened his grasp. This was the scene and the hour for love-making, and the seclusion was complete. “I suppose you wouldn’t kiss me?” Then as she frowned he added hastily, “Even men kiss one another in Europe, you know.”
“Only on the cheek and always look too silly for words. But you may kiss me there if you are feeling sentimental.”
The icy shower had steadied his nerves. He implanted a chaste salute on a cool cheek. “I’m not feeling in the least sentimental, but somehow it seemed the thing to do. Old Cornbury, no doubt, kissed every girl he managed to get into a corner. And knocked her wig off. By the way, we represent various eras tonight and I’m not sure they wore wigs in all of them.”
“I was thinking of my party, not history. And they certainly improve most of the men, as well as the girls. I never thought anything could improve Polly, but she looks like the most exquisite miniature ever painted.”
“Old Geoff evidently thinks so. He’s been dancing with her all evening. He’s come out of his triple-plated shell with a vengeance. Never saw such a metamorphosis. Always took for granted he had the same ugly mug as the rest of us, and he looks like a stunning old picture come to life. Polly may have met her fate.”
“Wouldn’t that be splendid!” Gita’s voice rang with enthusiasm.
“Hardly for Geoff. But——” He gave her a sharp narrowed glance. “Odd that you should countenance even your friends’ falling in love!”
“Ah, but Polly’s bound to marry some day. They all think they must. And it is something to satisfy the artistic eye of one’s friends. They harmonize in looks, in height and in coloring—oh! I forgot—Polly said once she couldn’t endure being married to a fair man.”
“Girls have been known to change their minds.” Bylant’s tones were both dry and hopeful. “Nothing is safer to bet on.”
“Gita! Are you there?” Elsie appeared round the corner of the tree. “It’s half-past eleven. Time for you to dress.”