"They've got some pretty girls in that set," he observed admiringly.
Evidently the young man did not intend to go away.
Hannah felt very annoyed. "Yes," she said, sharply, "which would you like?"
"I shouldn't care to make invidious distinctions," he replied with a little laugh.
"Odious prig!" thought Hannah. "He actually doesn't see I'm sitting on him!" Aloud she said, "No? But you can't marry them all."
"Why should I marry any?" he asked in the same light tone, though there was a shade of surprise in it.
"Haven't you come back to England to get a wife? Most young men do, when they don't have one exported to them in Africa."
He laughed with genuine enjoyment and strove to catch the answering gleam in her eyes, but she kept them averted. They were standing with their backs to the wall and he could only see the profile and note the graceful poise of the head upon the warm-colored neck that stood out against the white bodice. The frank ring of his laughter mixed with the merry jingle of the fifth figure—
"Well, I'm afraid I'm going to be an exception," he said.
"You think nobody good enough, perhaps," she could not help saying.
"Oh! Why should you think that?"