"Always."
"Really! In that case I shall be quite anxious to see this Admirable Crichton. Does he never come to town?"
"Very seldom," I replied. "He is devoted to his profession."
"But surely he is fond of dancing, and of some of the little amusements that ordinary mortals indulge in?"
"I don't think he cares very much for them. I fear Max is not in any sense a lady's man."
"You are prepared then to admit that he has at least one fault?" she said. "I was beginning to believe he was scarcely human."
The waltz was gradually dying down, expiring like the fabled swan in softest music. When it had ceased altogether, I thanked my partner, and led her into the cool conservatory. The admiration I had felt for her from the beginning was fast turning to enthusiasm.
Half an hour later I followed her to Lady Basingstoke's house, and when, after another delicious waltz, I escorted her to her carriage, and was introduced to her chaperone, I was as near enchantment as a man could well be. Next day I did myself the honour of calling at her house, and was most graciously received; the morning following I met her in the Row. She was mounted on a neat thoroughbred, which she sat and handled with the grace and dexterity of an accomplished horsewoman. With the sunshine sparkling in her eyes and playing among the tresses of her hair, her trim figure clad in its well-cut habit, with just the suspicion of a tiny foot peeping from beneath her skirt, she presented a picture that a man would have been justified in walking miles to see. On the Monday following we met at a dance in Eaton Square, on the Tuesday at another at Wiltshire House, on Wednesday at the state concert at Buckingham Palace, and on Thursday and Friday at a multiplicity of dances. Take these things into consideration, and is it necessary for me to add that by the end of the week I was head over ears in love?