"If you really don't mind, I've got volumes of old dance music over at Captoft. I was going to ask Jack to motor you and Leslie over to-morrow. Couldn't you rummage then?"
Fenella, hard pressed, looked over to Lumsden, as nearly every one had intended she should look. There was the strangest, quizzical expression on his face. It seemed to say:
"Now then! Who said they weren't afraid? First fence, and we're funking already."
"I'll dance," she said abruptly, amid general applause, headed rather shrilly from the top of the table; "but please don't trouble about dresses, Lady Pechell. I'll write to mother to send me my own."
Lumsden came to her side soon after the men entered the drawing-room with such undisguised intention that Lady Warrener, who had been trying to interest her in the dawning intelligence of the miraculous twins, drew away, puzzled and a little shaken in her advocacy.
"Bravo!" Bryan said encouragingly; but the girl did not respond, and he thought he saw a tear roll down one bare arm. Nelly's tears were still larger than ordinary.
"You looked across the table to me just now," he said. "I hope you saw nothing in my face except a wish you should do the best for your own interests."
"It's settled now," said Fenella coldly, after a gulp which she hoped he didn't notice. "Lady Warrener had the Chaconne from Iphigénie and I can do my Rosetta dance to any six-four time. I'll write for the dresses as soon as we get back to Lulford."
Saying which, she got up, grown stately somehow for all her girlish short frock, and crossed the room to where the joyful mother of twins was sitting silently, an expression of diffused and impartial sweetness on her face. She touched her elbow.
"Lady Warrener, won't you go on and tell me some more about your babies? I was really interested?"