“Yes, very slightly.”
“I should like to ask you now, as a friend—” Here Mary's partner reminded her that she ought to be dancing. When she had returned to her place again she heard—
“You think, then, that it was a bad business?”
“It was notorious in the college. We never had any doubt on the subject.”
“My niece has told Mrs. Porter that there really was nothing wrong in it.”
“Indeed? I am happy to hear it.”
“I should like to think well of him, as he is a connexion of my wife. In other respects now—”
Here again she was carried away by the dance. When she returned, she caught the end of a sentence of St. Cloud's, “You will consider what I have said in confidence?”
“Certainly,” answered Mr. Porter; “and I am exceedingly obliged to you.” And then the dance was over, and Mary returned to her father's side. She had never enjoyed a ball less than this, and persuaded her father to leave early, which he was delighted to do.
When she reached her own room, Mary took off her wreath and ornaments, and then sat down and fell into a brown study, which lasted for some time. At last she roused herself with a sigh, and thought she had never had so tiring a day, though she could hardly tell why, and felt half inclined to have a good cry, if she could only have made up her mind what about. However, being a sensible young woman, she resisted the temptation, and hardly taking the trouble to roll up her hair, went to bed and slept soundly.