"Some of the people are unrecognizable," said John, with originality equal to hers, and stung by the conviction that she had tried to avoid shaking hands with him.
The music struck up suddenly as if it were a new idea.
"Are you engaged for this dance?" said Mr. Lumley, flying to her side.
"Yes," said Di with decision.
"So am I," said he, and was gone again.
"Dance?" said a Sporting Times, rushing up in turn, and shooting out the one word like a pea from a pop-gun.
"Thanks, I should like to, but I am not allowed," said Di. "My grandmother is very particular. If you had been the Sunday at Home I should have been charmed."
The "Pink 'un" expostulated vehemently, and said he would have come as the Church Times if he had only known; but Di remained firm.
John walked away, pricking himself with his little dagger, the sheath of which had somehow got lost, and watched the knot of men who gradually gathered round Di. Presently she moved away with Lord Frederick in the direction of Madeleine, who had installed herself at the further end of the room among the fenders, as our latter-day youth gracefully designates the tiaras of the chaperones.
John was seized upon and introduced to an elderly minister with an order, who told him he had known his father, and began to sound him as to his political views. John, who was inured to this form of address, answered somewhat vaguely, for at that moment Di began to dance. She had a partner worthy of her in the shape of a sedate young Russian, resplendent in the white-and-gold uniform of the imperial Gardes à cheval.