"How long? I am not sure. Half-an-hour, I think."
"Have you been dancing?"
"Oh no. I have been standing here."
"To hide yourself? I really should not have seen you but that I am looking everywhere for Lydia's card, which she has lost."
He did not answer: his head was throbbing, his heart beating. Daisy thought him very silent.
"I have had my dance with Sir Paul Trellasis," said Daisy, toying with her own card, a blush on her face, and her eyes cast down.
At any other moment Frank would have read the signs, and taken the hint: she was ready to dance with him. But he never asked her: he did not take the gilded leaves and pencil into his own hands and write down his name as many times as he pleased. He simply stood still, gazing out with vacant eyes and a sad look on his face. Daisy at length glanced up at him.
"Are you ill?" she inquired.
"No; only tired."
"Too tired to dance?" she ventured to ask, after a pause, her pulses quickening a little as she put the suggestive question.