Ffolliott espying the two newly-arrived ladies across the room, made his way to them:
“Do you know, Miss Foljambe Pfinch,” he said—“I feel such an ass; they told me it was a—fancy—dress—affair.”
The lorgnettes were turned upon him:
“It’s that ridiculous Mr. Ffolliott,” said she; and laughed immoderately.
Ffolliott sighed, and turned away:
“Everybody seems to think I am an ass to-night,” he said wearily. “Oh, there’s Fosse. I don’t like Fosse—but I’ll talk to him. No—he’s talking to another man. I think I’ll go home. No, I won’t, I’ll sit down.”
He sat down.
“Every fellow does something idiotic in his life,” he said.
He watched Fosse button-hole Gomme; and he saw Gomme’s lips smile amusedly as he gazed at the floor, listening to him.
He bent all his attention to hear what passed between the two.