He waited for some time at the door of the dancing-room scanning the returning couples, but Elsie did not come; and Pip, who was preeminently a man of action, set out to look for her.
He came upon the truant rather suddenly, round a screen at the end of a passage. She was sitting on a settee with Cullyngham, who, with his head close to hers, was talking softly and rather too earnestly Pip thought. On seeing Pip, Cullyngham began to smile at once, but Elsie looked a little confused.
"My dance, I think," said Pip gruffly.
Cullyngham rose to his feet.
"A thousand apologies, old boy," he said easily. "I had no idea the music had started again. So sorry! I surrender Miss Innes forthwith. Au revoir, partner, and thank you."
He swung gracefully down the passage and was gone.
Elsie felt a little uncomfortable. The woman never yet lived who did not enjoy playing two fish simultaneously, and under ordinary circumstances Elsie would have handled her line with all the pleasure and finesse of an expert. But somehow Pip was different. He was not the sort of person who shared a hook gracefully. He was perfectly capable of disregarding the rules of the game and making a fuss and breaking the line, unless treated with special and separate consideration.
She rose lightly.
"So sorry, Pip," she said, taking his arm almost caressingly. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting. Shall we go and dance?"
"No," said Pip. "Sit down a minute, please."