“Pig,” said her sister, smiling at her.
“Wretch,” cried Vic, making a face.
But Patricia was quite unabashed. “I am going to have him just as often as I can,” she said, brazenly.
For a few minutes they stood watching the dancers on the floor below. It was indeed, as Mrs. Templeton had said, a “mixed multitude.” Mill hands and their girls, townsfolk whose social standing was sufficiently assured to endure the venture. A mixed multitude, but thoroughly jolly, making up in vigour what was lacking in grace in their exposition of the Terpsichorean art.
“Rather ghastly,” said Rupert, who appeared to be quite disgusted with the whole evening's proceedings.
“Lovely!” exclaimed Patricia.
“They are enjoying themselves, at any rate,” said Adrien, “and, after all, that is what people dance for.”
“Stacks of fun. I am all for it, eh, Pat?” said Vic, making adoring eyes at the young girl.
But Patricia severely ignored him.
“Oh, Adrien, look!” she cried suddenly. “There is Annette, and who is the big man with her? Oh, what an awful dancer he is! But Annette, isn't she wonderful! What a lovely dress! I think she is the most beautiful thing.” And Patricia was right, for Annette was radiant in colour and unapproachable in the grace of her movement.