“Oh, yes, Ellsworth had made quite an attractive arrangement out of these two houses—better than we ever thought he could do.” He was talking to Henry Hale Sanderson, a young banker. “He had the advantage of combining two into one, and I think he’s done more with my little one, considering the limitations of space, than he has with this big one. Father’s has the advantage of size. I tell the old gentleman he’s simply built a lean-to for me.”
His father and a number of his cronies were over in the dining-room of his grand home, glad to get away from the crowd. He would have to stay, and, besides, he wanted to. Had he better dance with Aileen? His wife cared little for dancing, but he would have to dance with her at least once. There was Mrs. Seneca Davis smiling at him, and Aileen. By George, how wonderful! What a girl!
“I suppose your dance-list is full to overflowing. Let me see.” He was standing before her and she was holding out the little blue-bordered, gold-monogrammed booklet. An orchestra was playing in the music room. The dance would begin shortly. There were delicately constructed, gold-tinted chairs about the walls and behind palms.
He looked down into her eyes—those excited, life-loving, eager eyes.
“You’re quite full up. Let me see. Nine, ten, eleven. Well, that will be enough. I don’t suppose I shall want to dance very much. It’s nice to be popular.”
“I’m not sure about number three. I think that’s a mistake. You might have that if you wish.”
She was falsifying.
“It doesn’t matter so much about him, does it?”
His cheeks flushed a little as he said this.
“No.”