'To see—you.'
'How rash—how foolish—go home!'
She hurried away, and on Fotheringhame rejoining Annabelle, the latter could see that he had suddenly become very pale.
'Do you know that—person?' she asked while slowly fanning herself, and fixing her upturned eyes upon him.
'Why do you ask, dearest Bella?' said he, as if to gain time for thought.
'Because she seemed to know you, and called you Leslie.'
'Surely not; but so many people know me—the world is such a small place. I know her to be very unhappy, and this gay scene is the last place where I would expect to see her, even as a spectator.'
He spoke with perfect deliberation and confidence now, but failed to inspire his listener with the latter, as she read a sudden and settled gloom in his eyes.
The strange woman—a lady evidently—admitted that she had come hither to see him. Why? Then he had desired her to 'go home.' Where was her home? Who was she? And why did this chance meeting make him so distrait?
'Our dance now, darling,' he whispered, drawing her hand through his arm. 'One of Schubert's waltzes; old Humstrumm greatly affects Schubert,' he added with rather a sickly smile. But this little episode so startled Annabelle, that the task of getting her fair face and soft complexion into 'society trim' again cost her an effort; and ere they could get among the waltzers in the Music-hall, a strange commotion there attracted the attention of both, as it did that of everyone; so the cause thereof deserves a chapter to itself, for Fotheringhame was struck with horror and dismay to see his friend Cecil Falconer borne past him to a retiring-room, reeling and almost senseless, in the arms of three officers of different regiments!