“You are very unkind and cruel and sulky and naughty,” said Miss Amory, with another shrug of the shoulders. “You had better go away. Your cousin is looking at us over Mr. Pynsent’s shoulder.”
“Will you waltz with me?” said Pen.
“Not this waltz. I can’t, having just sent away that good Captain Broadfoot. Look at Mr. Pynsent, did you ever see such a creature? But I will dance the next waltz with you, and the quadrille too. I am promised, but I will tell Mr. Poole that I had forgotten my engagement to you.”
“Women forget very readily,” Pendennis said.
“But they always come back, and are very repentant and sorry for what they’ve done,” Blanche said. “See, here comes the Poker, and dear Laura leaning on him. How pretty she looks!”
Laura came up, and put out her hand to Pen, to whom Pynsent made a sort of bow, appearing to be not much more graceful than that domestic instrument to which Miss Amory compared him.
But Laura’s face was full of kindness. “I am so glad to have come, dear Pen,” she said. “I can speak to you now. How is mamma? The three dances are over, and I am engaged to you for the next, Pen.”
“I have just engaged myself to Miss Amory,” said Pen; and Miss Amory nodded her head, and made her usual little curtsey. “I don’t intend to give him up, dearest Laura,” she said.
“Well, then, he’ll waltz with me, dear Blanche,” said the other. “Won’t you, Pen?”
“I promised to waltz with Miss Amory.”