"Yes," she answered, very softly.
She said nothing more. The graceful face recomposed itself into its serenity, and the dance ceased. In silence he offered her his arm, and without even asking her went towards the ballroom door, desirous of leaving. But other couples had left for the corridor, some slowly, others hurriedly, to look for a quiet corner. Lucio, accustomed to command, hid his annoyance with the people he found everywhere; Lilian followed him in silence, without questioning, allowing him to lead her where he willed. In the middle of the corridor Miss May Ford came towards them, as she left a small sitting-room. She was dressed in black satin with a magnificent white lace scarf on her arm and a jewelled flower in her sprinkled hair. She had a gentle but composedly affectionate smile for Lilian.
"The game is over, darling. It is late, I am retiring," she said, in a quite English tone of simplicity. "Are you staying?"
"I shall stay, dear," replied Lilian simply.
"I expect you will stay till the end, darling?"
"I expect so too," replied Lilian frankly.
"Then good night, dear. Good night, Signor Sabini." Miss Ford withdrew with that freedom and indifference which astonishes anyone who is not English, and which, instead, is the expression of their respect for other people's liberty and their own. And Lucio, pressing Lilian's arm lightly beneath his own as they went towards the hall, said:
"Now you are in my hands, Miss Temple."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, frowning slightly and lowering her eyes.