Again he fixed his eyes upon her face, watching for the movement of her lips.
There was none!
Silence appeared to give consent. Forcibly the old adage came before Maynard’s mind—so forcibly, that with a bow, which comprehended the trio, he turned upon his heel, and disappeared among the dancers.
In six seconds after, Julia Girdwood was whirling around the room, her flushed cheek resting upon the shoulder of a man known to nobody, but whose dancing everybody admired.
“Who is the distinguished stranger?” was the inquiry on every lip. It was even put—lispingly of course—by the J.’s and the L.’s and the B.’s.
Mrs Girdwood would have given a thousand dollars to have satisfied their curiosity—to have spited them with the knowledge that her daughter was dancing with a lord!