into marrying. That would never do. Here we are."
In two minutes more they were in the great ball-room, and Randal's eyes were dazzled with the lights, the diamonds, the blaze of beauty. Audley presented him in quick succession to some dozen ladies, and then disappeared amidst the crowd. Randal was not at a loss; he was without shyness; or if he had that disabling infirmity, he concealed it. He answered the languid questions put to him, with a certain spirit that kept up talk, and left a favorable impression of his agreeable qualities. But the lady with whom he got on the best, was one who had no daughters out, a handsome and witty woman of the world—Lady Frederick Coniers.
"It is your first ball at Almack's, then, Mr. Leslie?"
"My first."
"And you have not secured a partner? Shall I find you one? What do you think of that pretty girl in pink?"
"I see her—but I can not think of her."
"You are rather, perhaps, like a diplomatist in a new court, and your first object is to know who is who."
"I confess that on beginning to study the history of my own day, I should like to distinguish the portraits that illustrate the memoir."
"Give me your arm then, and we will come into the next room. We shall see the different notabilités enter one by one, and observe without being observed. This is the least I can do for a friend of Mr. Egerton's."
"Mr. Egerton, then," said Randal—(as they threaded their way through the space without the rope that protected the dancers)—"Mr. Egerton has had the good fortune to win your esteem, even for his friends, however obscure?"