“Are you blind?” she said.
Arthur felt uncomfortable.
In due course, however, the last waltz before supper came round, and he, as agreed upon, danced it with his hostess. As the strains of the music died away, the doors of the supper-room and tent were thrown open.
“Now, Arthur,” said Mildred, “take me in to supper.”
He hesitated.
“The Portuguese Governor——” he began.
She stamped her little foot, and her eyes gave an ominous flash.
“Must I ask you twice?” she said.
Then he yielded, though the fact of being for the second time that night placed in an unnecessarily prominent position made him feel more uncomfortable than ever, for they were seated at the head of the top table. Mildred Carr was in the exact centre, with himself on her right and the Portuguese Governor on the left. To Arthur’s left was Lady Florence, who took an opportunity to assure him solemnly that he really “bore his blushing honours, very nicely,” and to ask him “how he liked the high places at feasts?”
The supper passed off as brilliantly as most successful suppers do. Mrs. Carr looked charming, and her conversation sparkled like her own champagne; but it seemed to him that, as in the case of the wine, there was too much sting in it. The wine was a little too dry, and her talk a little too full of suppressed sarcasm, though he could not quite tell what it was aimed at, any more than he could trace the source of the champagne bubbles.