"I trust you are well?"
"Quite well, thank you," was her murmured answer, drawing away the hand which had barely touched his.
Nothing could be more quiet than the meeting, nothing more simple than the words spoken; nothing, it may be said, more commonplace. But that Decima was suffering from some intense agitation, there could be no doubt; and the next moment her face had turned of that same ghastly hue which had startled her brother Lionel when he was handing her into the carriage. Sir Edmund continued speaking with them a few minutes, and then was called off to receive other guests.
"Have you forgotten how to dance, Edmund?"
The question came from Miss Hautley, disturbing him as he made the centre of a group to whom he was speaking of his Indian life.
"I don't suppose I have," he said, turning to her. "Why?"
"People are thinking so," said Miss Hautley. "The music has been bursting out into fresh attempts this last half-hour, and impatience is getting irrepressible. They cannot begin, Edmund, without you. Your partner is waiting."
"My partner?" reiterated Sir Edmund. "I have asked nobody yet."
"But I have, for you. At least, I have as good as done it. Lady Constance—"
"Oh, my dear aunt, you are very kind," he hastily interrupted, "but when I do dance—which is of rare occurrence—I like to choose my own partner. I must do so now."