My Last Duchess.
"Our dance, I believe. Miss Allonby."
Wynifred, quietly seated by her partner, raised her eyes deliberately.
"You, Mr. Cranmer? I thought you had gone some time ago."
"Indeed? Am I in the habit of breaking my word?" asked Claud, stiffly.
"Oh," said the girl, as she rose and took his arm, "to cut a dance is not considered breaking one's word in le monde où l'on s'ennuie, especially when to keep it would be to make the horses stand in the cold!"
"The horses are not standing now, so be easy on that score. I have not carried my heroism to that extent. Now, what made you say you thought I had gone?"
"Lady Mabel has been gone some time."
"Does that entail my going too? Had she not a gentleman in attendance? Are there no hansom cabs in London? Do you think I am tied to Mab's apron-strings?"