“I know heaps of people; that is, I did not know them myself, but what does it matter about that when I am papa’s daughter, and he could just—buy them all up!”
“Oh,” said Eddy, taken a little aback—for though he was accustomed to a great deal of slang and much frank speaking, it was not generally quite of this kind. “Then,” he said, “I am at my wit’s end, and I can’t think what they meant.”
“They said,” cried Marion, “that I was not out.”
“Oh,” said Eddy again.
“But what did that matter—for who would have ever known? And it was a delightful ball, with a great many officers. And I am a fine dancer,” said Marion with a deep sigh of mingled indignation and regret.
“Oh, as for that, there is no doubt,” said Eddy, “you are as light as a feather, and with those pretty little feet—”
“No, I am not as light as a feather: I am just the weight I ought to be, and my feet are just the same as other people’s; but I know,” said Marion with conviction, “that I am good at dancing. Archie is not very good at it, and he is not fond of it.”
“He does not look as if he would be,” said Eddy, with a look at the son of the house tramping on before them at a considerable distance in close pursuit of the lady who was in his charge.
“No,” said Marion, “he never was fond of it—are you?”
“Oh, I adore it,” said the young man, “when I have a partner to my mind. You and I, Miss Marion, would fly like the wind. We’d leave everybody behind us. I’ll tell you what we must do to make up for that Ravenscraig—no, Eagle’s Craig business—we’ll make them give a ball here.”