"Excuse me, Bertie," said Cecil, languidly; "I am only going to dance the two or three round ones I am engaged for, and I know you do not care for square."
"I should think not," said he angrily, "when you are going to dance round ones with other fellows."
"You see you asked too late," said she, indifferently.
"Will you go in to supper with me then?"
"That was all arranged and written down ages ago. Let me see, I am ticketed for the Major again."
"As you have been all day. I never saw such a cut and-dried, monotonous programme for a party: all done by rule—no freedom of action."
"Really, Bertie, you and Miss Tremaine can't complain."
"That's why you are so cold to me to-night, Cecil," said Du Meresq, quietly.
"What can it signify to me?" retorted she, freezingly, vexed at having permitted the adversary, so to speak, to discover the joint in her harness. Her partner, who had been hovering near, now claimed and bore her unwillingly away, for next to being friends with Bertie was the pleasure of "riling" him by smiling icyness. It was the only weapon she permitted herself, as she would not condescend to any visible sign of jealousy or pique.
Bertie was simply gêné by her determination to be all or nothing; there was no satisfying such an unreasonable girl. Like the immortal Lilyvick, "he loved them all," yet her thoughtful mind and gentle companionship were becoming more to him than he was himself aware of.