“Yes what do you think of her?”
“Devilish taking, I think. I say, can't you introduce me? They say she has tin.”
“I can't say I think much of her looks,” said St. Cloud, acting up to his principle of telling a lie sooner than let his real thoughts be seen.
“Don't you?” said the guardsman. “Well, I like her form better than anything out this year. Such a clean stepper! You should just dance with her.”
And so they went on criticizing Mary and others of their partners, exactly as they would have talked of a stud of racers, till they found themselves sufficiently refreshed to encounter new labors, and broke up returning in twos and threes towards the ball-room.
St. Cloud attached himself to the guardsman, and returned to the charge.
“You seem hit by that girl,” he began; “have you known her long?”
“About a week—I met her once before to-night.”
“Do you know her people? Who is her father?”
“A plain-headed old party—you wouldn't think it to look at her—but I hear he is very solvent.”