“That is the worst of it,” said Rosamond reflectively. “Probably they are far the nicest people in the room. I thought last night we were all like the little figures on the barrel-organ that used to play under our nursery windows, going round and round till it made one giddy to see them. And to think that people with other things in their minds should go like that a whole evening; and all the trouble that was taken to prepare for them, and all the trouble to make things rational again, and only know perhaps in the midst of all the nonsense—”
“What—in the midst of all the nonsense, Miss Saumarez?” said Mr. Rowland, suddenly laying down his paper, which had much the effect of a gun suddenly fired into the midst of them, for it was very rarely that he interfered in the conversation of the young members of the party. His face, which always had a weatherbeaten tone, was flushed and redder than usual, which is the unattractive way in which some middle-aged people show their trouble, instead of the more interesting method of young folk.
“Oh nothing,” said Rosamond a little startled, and answering like any shy girl suddenly finding herself called to book. She recovered her courage, however, and continued: “I mean it looks silly to see everybody twirling and twirling as if they had nothing to do or think of, when they must have things to think of, even in the midst of a ball.”
Rowland threw down his paper and rose from his seat. “You are about right, however you came about your knowledge,” he said, and walking to the window stood with his large back turned towards them, staring out and seeing nothing; indeed, as the windows of the dining-room looked only into the shrubberies, there was nothing but trees and bushes to see.
“It is not the fashion,” said Eddy, “to wear your heart on your sleeve, thank heaven. And society’s the best of discipline in that way. When a man’s hit, he must blubber out loud before the crowd like a child; I am always at my funniest when I’m hardest hit—and as for the Governor, Rose, you know when he’s bad by the way he laughs at everything. By the way,” cried Eddy, “what’s become of Rowland, the lazy beggar? doesn’t he mean to come downstairs to-day?”
“Archie was always lazy in the morning,” said Marion, “we never could get him up.”
“Young Mr. Rowland should have a long allowance,” said a lady who had been absorbed in her letters, “for he had double work last night. He was ubiquitous, finding partners, finding places, doing everything. You should have heard Lady Jean. He fairly won her heart.”
“And mine too,” cried Lady Marchbanks from the other end of the table, who was known to copy Lady Jean faithfully in all her strongly expressed opinions.
“That would show, according to Saumarez,” said a young man laughing, “that to show himself so lively, he must have had something on his mind.”
Rowland turned round from the window at which he stood, and gave a keen look at the careless young speaker who had just appeared, then returned to his contemplation of the somewhat gloomy landscape without.