"I do so love you, George!"
She was dreaming. She thought we were alone.
"Margaret!"
I kissed her. Something caused her to look round. There was old Pybus standing at her side. She drew herself away from me. She blushed a rosy red; then her glance travelled round the room. She pressed her hands against her bosom. A startled look came into her eyes.
"Then--it wasn't all a dream."
Hughes slipped his arm through hers.
"Miss Hammond, I must insist upon your taking exercise. Take a sharp turn or two round the room with me. Lucas, I wish you'd sit down and play us a dance. Or, better still, let me sit down and play, and you and Miss Hammond take a few turns together. Mr. Pybus, you must dance with Mrs. Chalmers. A flyaway gallop, or a rattling polka. They're better than valses."
There was a remarkable expression upon old Pybus's enamelled countenance. So far as that goes, I expect there was on mine--but, as to that, no matter.
"Might I ask, once more, for an explanation of these very singular proceedings?"
"I warn you, Mr. Pybus, that if you do not dance with Mrs. Chalmers, you must be responsible for the consequences, both as they regard yourself and the lady."