“I really mean it. I shall not go. I am very thankful to you that you have inquired about the people who are coming. I was already afraid that you would not approve of my going, but I could not bear the thought of staying alone at home a whole evening; that always makes me so melancholy.”
“You feared my disapproval?” he asked smilingly.
“Yes,” she answered. “You are such a good friend to me, that I should not like to do anything of which you disapprove. And for this evening—I shall do exactly as you require.”
“Thank you,” he said with emotion, and pressed her hand.
“Yes, you may well appreciate it,” she cried with forced airiness, feeling somewhat depressed by her humility. “Do you know that, for the last three-quarters of an hour, I have been busy arranging the sequins in my hair, and all for nothing?”
“Certainly, I appreciate what you have done. I assure you I appreciate it,” he declared with much earnestness.
Uncle Daniel entered the room.
“Bon soir, St. Clare. You are not coming, are you? But, Eline! Are not you going to dress?”
Eline stammered something and could not find her words, when she heard the voice of Elise, who was grumbling to the maid. Elise entered, glittering with sequins and Moorish draperies, her feet encased in two little slippers.
“Bon soir, St. Clare. What a pity you are not going. It will be very nice—Ciel! Eline!”