“That makes one off,” she answered, laughing, as she rose and took his arm. “How dreadfully sorry for yourself you look!”
“Then my looks belie me. I was never gladder for myself. I see you have ever so many engagements already. Shall I put myself down for number eighteen?”
“Certainly. You are sure we shall have left before that number arrives.”
They were moving slowly among the dancers by this time, and a minute later they spun off with a fine rhythmical swing. Miss Green was what the hunting men called a splendid mover. She had taken trouble to excel in her paces, knowing that her appearance was against ball-room triumphs. Men liked to dance with her—for three reasons. She was rich; she waltzed well; and she had a malevolent tongue, which amused her partners.
It was her delight to criticize her fairer sisters—the flaws in their beauty; the tricks which helped them to be beautiful; their affectations; their vanities; their bad taste.
“Did you ever see three young women ‘fagotées’ like those Marchant girls?” she murmured, in a low, clear voice, which she had cultivated for speaking evil of people near at hand. “That blue girl—that red girl! I don’t know which is worse! The blue frock is an inch and a half shorter on one side than on the other—an advantage, as it shows off the blue slipper, which doesn’t match the frock, and the blue stocking, which doesn’t match the slipper. But the red girl! Please notice the lacing of the red bodice. I assure you the girl isn’t humpbacked, though that bodice certainly suggests deformity.”
“How observant you are, Miss Green; and with what a keen eye for the infinitesimal!”
“I am looking at their chaperon now—the enormous person in dyed crimson satin. It must have been her wedding-gown ages ago—a sweet silver-grey. You don’t call that lady infinitesimal, I hope?”
“Physically large, perhaps—but, from your mental standpoint, microscopic. Now, confess, Miss Green, don’t you think these people infinitely insignificant, simply because they happen not to be rich?”
“I think them immensely amusing. One sees such people only at public balls in the heart of the country. That is why public balls are such fun. Do look at the glass stars in the tallest Miss Marchant’s hair! Did you ever see anything so absurd?”