Allan's heart also began to sink. He knew what it meant to take a matron in to supper; the leisurely discussion of salmon and cutlets, the half-bottle of champagne, the gossip, lasting half an hour at the least. And while he was ministering to Mrs. Mornington what chance would he have of becoming acquainted with Mrs. Mornington's niece?
"I should be proud to be so honoured; but think how many persons of greater age and dignity you will offend. Colonel Fordingbridge, for instance, such an old friend."
"Colonel Fordingbridge has just gone in with my niece."
"Oh, in that case, let me have the honour," exclaimed Allan eagerly, almost dragging Mrs. Mornington towards the supper-room. "I should not like to have offended dear old Fordingbridge."
"We may get seats at their table, perhaps. I told Suzette to go to one of the cosy little tables at the end of the room."
Suzette! what a coquettish, enchanting name! He pushed past the long table where two rows of people were talking, laughing, gobbling, as if they never dined and had hardly tasted food for a week. He pushed on to the end of the room where, on each side of the fireplace, now a mass of golden lilies and palms, Mrs. Mornington had found space for a small round table—a table which just held four people snugly, if not commodiously.
One of these tables had been made to accommodate six; the other had just been left by the first batch of supper-eaters. Miss Vincent and Colonel Fordingbridge were standing near while a servant re-arranged the table.
"That's lucky," said Mrs. Mornington. "Suzette, I want to introduce my friend Mr. Carew to you—Mr. Carew—Miss Vincent. And after supper he can take you to your father, whom I haven't seen for the last hour."
"I am afraid he has gone home," replied the young lady, after smilingly accepting the introduction. "I heard him ask Mrs. Fordingbridge to take care of me if he should feel tired and be obliged to go home. He can't bear being up late at night."
"No wonder, when he is out and about at daybreak!"