“Ah! I thought so. One can always tell by the freshness with which people enjoy it. For my own part, I confess I envy every one their first experience of this kind; it so soon wears off—the pleasure, I mean—and one feels the insipidity of it. Perhaps you already anticipate that?” There was a depth of expression in her face that suggested this remark. Mr. Charlton considered himself a reader of character—a physiognomist, in fact.
“Oh! no,” exclaimed Franceline, with artless vehemence; “I don’t think I should ever get tired of it; it’s far more enjoyable than I imagined!”
“Ah, indeed! Well, just so; it’s as people feel; for my part I think it’s a mistake—I mean getting blasé of things;” and he ran a turquoise and diamond finger through his curly straw-colored hair.
“I hate people who are blasé,” was the unconventional rejoinder; “they are always so tiresome and woe-begone. Papa always says he feels under a personal obligation to people for being happy; they do him good—like dear little Miss Merrywig, for instance. I’m sure she’s not blasé of anything; how she did enjoy herself in the quadrille! And it was so pretty to see her dancing her demure little old-fashioned steps.”
“She’s a very old friend of yours, is she not, Charlton?” said Clide.
“Oh! yes; since before I was born. She’s a dear old girl, if she would only not bother one to guess what she gave for her buttons,” replied Mr. Charlton. “But just see here! Is our Christian friend trying to deal with Roxham?”
Miss Bulpit was coming across the conservatory out of the Diana gallery, leaning on Lord Roxham, with whom she was conversing in an earnest manner.
“Oh! here you are, Roxham. I’ve been hunting for you this quarter of an hour,” called out Sir Simon, appearing from behind a mandarin who was holding a tray full of tea-cups to the company. “Franceline, my friend Lord Roxham has threatened to shoot me if I don’t get him a dance from you; so in self-defence I had to make over my right to the first waltz. I couldn’t do more, or less. What do you say, Miss Bulpit?”
Miss Bulpit considered Sir Simon was behaving very handsomely.
“It’s easy to be generous at other people’s expense,” observed Mr. de Winton, tightening his grasp on the light arm that was obediently slipping from him; “it so happens that Mlle. de le Bourbonais has promised the first waltz to me.”