"All those men want to take her in," said Mrs. Carrol, "and you're going to make them all very jealous."
Dinner was announced, and Mrs. Carrol, with Fitz in tow, swept down upon the group of men. It parted reluctantly and disclosed, lolling happily in a deep chair, the most beautiful girl in the world. She came to her feet in the quickest, prettiest way imaginable, and spoke to Mrs. Carrol in the young Ellen Terry voice, with its little ghost of a French accent. Fitz did not hear what she said or what Mrs. Carrol answered. He only knew that his heart was thumping against his ribs, and that a moment later he was being introduced as Mr. Holden, and that Eve did not know him from Adam.
Presently she laid the tips of her fingers on his arm, and they were going in to dinner.
"I think Mrs. Carrol's a dear," said Fitz, "to give me you to take in and to sit next to. I always wanted people to like me, but now all the men hate me. I can feel it in the small of my back, and I like it. Do you know how you feel in spring—the day the first crocuses come out? That's the way it makes me feel."
She turned her great, smiling eyes upon him and laughed. The laugh died away. His young, merry face had a grim, resolved look. So his father looked at critical times.
"I thought you were joking—rather feebly," she said.
"I don't know," said he, "that I shall ever joke again."
"You make your mind up very quickly," she said.
"The men of my family all do," he said. "But it isn't my mind that's made up."
Something of the girl's stately and exquisite poise forsook her. Her eyes wore a hunted look for a moment. She even felt obliged to laugh to cover her confusion.