"Rather. I say, that's ripping! A dance? Good," as she nodded her head. "I'll bet your people will do it well." Unconsciously he voiced the sentiments expressed that morning by Mrs. Cadell.
"How many dances may I have? I suppose you can't spare the lot?"
The infection of his mood was catching.
"One and an extra..." Cydonia laughed.
"Nonsense!" He hunted for a pencil and pulled out his cuff aggressively.
"Five at least. And supper too. Oh, Cydonia! you really might..."
But over the girl's merry face a shadow fell. She turned her head with startled eyes and a quick "Hush!" as a voice outside, loud and harsh, echoed down the long passage.
"It's Father!" She gave a gasp. "Oh, Peter, what shall we do?"
McTaggart was on his feet.
"The inner room"—he grasped her arm—"don't speak!" On tiptoe they fled.