"Hear me first," I pleaded, utterly crushed. "Hear me first, Dorice. I've done my best. I went to the wrong place. You rang off without giving me the proper address. A blundering villain of a cabman took me to—Naughton Hall. They made me dance with somebody named Giggleswick. I escaped as soon as I could and came here. I ran a lot of the way."
I looked up at her beseechingly.
Then I discovered that my life was not blighted for ever.
Dorice was smiling upon me—yes, smiling! She leant forward eagerly and touched my hand.
"You've been to Naughton Hall!" she whispered delightedly; "but, my dear old boy, it's simply the dance of the season round here! All these people would do anything to get invited. The Perrys only gave this dance so that they could use it as a sort of excuse for not being seen at the Naughton Hall one!"
"Anybody could have gone in my place," I murmured; "I didn't enjoy it at all."
Dorice got up and took hold of my arm.
"Come on," she said with suppressed excitement, "this is splendid!"
She took me through a crowd of people and introduced me to Mr. and Mrs. Perry.
Then she raised her voice.