"Dear Jack, don't drag in father! Isn't that what I have to fight against? Having my personality submerged by his dead pomp and glory?"
Her use of his Christian name startled him; and she watched with amusement his stiff attempt not to seem startled.
"I'd sooner think of you as Lord Crawleigh's daughter than as Sir Adolf Erckmann's friend."
Her eyes half closed, and she looked at him through the long black lashes.
"I believe you're falling in love with me."
Jack lazily threw away the end of his cigarette, dusted imaginary specks of ash from his breeches and rose slowly to his feet.
"I was only thinking what I should feel about you, if you were my sister," he said. "Ought we to be going upstairs? Lady Pentyre's rather concerned about you."
"I'll reassure her," said Lady Barbara. "Don't bother to come up; you won't be dancing."
Though she had a reserve of self-control for scenic emergencies, he had snubbed her so wantonly that she darted like a black and silver moth out of the room before he could mark a change of expression. Jack followed in time to see her locate Lady Pentyre and take the chair by her side. The warm, scented air of the ball-room struck and flushed his cheeks like the heavy breath of a hot-house. Summertown, waltzing by, disengaged one hand and whistled shrilly on his fingers above the boom and wail of the band.