"Let's see," he said, writing, "how greedy dare I be?"
Suzanne made no reply.
"If I take the third and the sixth and the tenth would that be too many?"
"No-o," said Suzanne doubtfully.
He wrote in hers and his and then they went back to the drawing-room where so many were now moving. "Will you be sure and save me these?"
"Why, certainly," she replied. "To be sure, I will!"
"That's nice of you. And now here comes your mother. Remember, you mustn't ever, ever, ever laugh. It's against the rules."
Suzanne went away, thinking. She was pleased at the gaiety of this man who seemed so light-hearted and self-sufficient. He seemed like someone who took her as a little girl, so different from the boys she knew who were solemn in her presence and rather love sick. He was the kind of man one could have lots of fun with without subjecting one's self to undue attention and having to explain to her mother. Her mother liked him. But she soon forgot him in the chatter of other people.
Eugene was thinking again, though, of the indefinable something in the spirit of this girl which was attracting him so vigorously. What was it? He had seen hundreds of girls in the last few years, all charming, but somehow this one—— She seemed so strong, albeit so new and young. There was a poise there—a substantial quality in her soul which could laugh at life and think no ill of it. That was it or something of it, for of course her beauty was impressive, but a courageous optimism was shining out through her eyes. It was in her laugh, her mood. She would never be afraid.
The dance began after ten, and Eugene danced with first one and then another—Angela, Mrs. Dale, Mrs. Stevens, Miss Willy. When the third set came he went looking for Suzanne and found her talking to another young girl and two society men.