She met Don Carlos de Ruiz again that night at Lady Trencrom's dance, looking handsome and distinguished in full evening kit, with medals and orders in miniature glinting on his left lapel and a jewelled decoration on his breast. He recognised her instantly, and made his way masterfully through the crowd that surrounded her at the first interval.
"I shall have the pleasure of the next dance with you, Miss Rostrevor?" he said, and it struck Myra that his words were more by way of being an assertion than a question or a request.
"Indeed, señor, and you won't," she retorted in her soft Irish voice. "I'm dancing the next with my fiancé, Mr. Tony Standish. Here he is coming now… Tony, my dear, this is Don Carlos de Ruiz, who plays polo like an angel."
"Didn't know that angels played polo, but I'm pleased to meet you, Don
Carlos," drawled Standish. "Frightful crush, isn't it?"
"Miss Rostrevor was going to dance the next number with me, Mr. Standish, but suddenly remembered she had promised to dance with you," said Don Carlos, with smiling sang-froid, as he shook hands. "If you would be so good as to resign your right in my favour—"
He paused with a questioning glance at Tony, who looked a trifle bewildered.
"Why—er—of course, if Miss Rostrevor so wishes," Tony said, just as the band struck up; and before Myra quite realised what was happening she found herself gliding round the room in the arms of Don Carlos.
"You certainly are not lacking in nerve, señor, and you apparently have no regard for the truth," she commented, recovering from her astonishment. "I never said I was going to dance with you."
"Sweet lady, I would perjure my soul for the privilege and pleasure of dancing with you," Don Carlos responded, smiling down into her blue eyes. "It is an honour and a delight to have for partner the most beautiful and charming girl in England. You dance divinely, señorita, and are light as thistledown in my arms. My soul is enchanted, enraptured!"
"Away with your blarney!" exclaimed Myra, half-laughingly, half-impatiently, but conscious of a queer little thrill as she met his smiling glance. "Do you pay every woman you meet such fulsome and extravagant compliments, señor?"