“Well, well.”
He held his company by the importance of the news he brought. But the orchestra tuned up for an everlasting set of landers, and he abandoned his scandalised hearers in a craven manner, rolling off like a ball to the feet of the lady whom he had asked to be his partner. From the recess of the window the gentlemen who remained behind, for lack of anything better, watched the evolutions of the various couples, assuming a detached and judicial air as the dancers of both sexes advanced and retreated, saluted or turned according to the rhythm of the music and the various figures. Among the dancers was Jeanne Sassenay, her cheeks like roses, her hair rebelling against its neat and careful dressing. Quite graceful and childlike in a pale blue dress cut slightly low in the neck and showing a bit of white flesh caressed by the crystal lights, she was putting her whole mind on keeping the figures straight. Her whole being glowed with her pleasure and the importance of the evening.
She excited a variety of comments from the lookers-on:
“Not bad looking, that little girl,” said one.
“Very thin: look at her shoulder blades,” said another.
“Only eighteen,” remarked a third.
“Oh, she’ll marry soon.”
“Why?”
“She has a large dot.”
“Yes, but her brother has piled up debts.”