‘Really! . . . Why, Selina—’
‘Yes!’
‘Why not put it on now?’
‘Wouldn’t it seem—. And yet, O how I should like to! It would remind them all, if we told them what it was, how we really meant to be married on that bygone day!’ Her eyes were again laden with wet.
‘Yes . . . The pity that we didn’t—the pity!’ Moody mournfulness seemed to hold silent awhile one not naturally taciturn. ‘Well—will you?’ he said.
‘I will—the next dance, if mother don’t mind.’
Accordingly, just before the next figure was formed, Selina disappeared, and speedily came downstairs in a creased and box-worn, but still airy and pretty, muslin gown, which was indeed the very one that had been meant to grace her as a bride three years before.
‘It is dreadfully old-fashioned,’ she apologized.
‘Not at all. What a grand thought of mine! Now, let’s to’t again.’
She explained to some of them, as he led her to the second dance, what the frock had been meant for, and that she had put it on at his request. And again athwart and around the room they went.