“Not bad looking,” she said, critically surveying his calm, well-bred face and heavily built though finely proportioned figure. “Might even pass for a handsome man. Why is it that men always look so well in evening clothes? Stanton,” speaking in a low tone, “when I told Vivienne that your business engagements might keep you in town this evening she looked as if she didn’t care at all.”
“Perhaps she didn’t,” he said coolly.
“Bah—you’re a man! She did care. What did you say the other day to make her angry?”
“Nothing.”
“You did something.”
“No, I did not,” he said quietly; “but really I must refuse to have Miss Delavigne thrust upon me at every turn.”
“Come, look at her and see how lovely she is,” and Judy drew him toward the circular opening in the hall. “Aren’t her bows delicious? Do you see Valentine watching her? He is happy because she is going to dance with him presently, and I don’t believe she wants to, for she is afraid that he is going to get silly over her, just as he has been over other girls.”
“Did she tell you this?”
“No, but I know it. What a pity that you have given up dancing, Stanton.”
“I must leave you,” he said abruptly, and in a few minutes he was moving quietly about among his guests below.