Part 25 (1/2)
”No! You don't say so now?” returned the other, open-mouthed, and not detecting the fine irony of his banterer's tone.
”Yes, of course. And now excuse me. I must go and find my partner.”
”Certainly--certainly. You young fellers! I was a young feller once, ha, ha, ha!” And old Garrett winked, and contorted his visage in the direction of his recent interlocutor in such wise as should mean volumes.
”This is ours, Miss Strange.”
Lilian had just come in. She had pa.s.sed close behind the speaker while he was talking to old Garrett, and her entrance did not remain long undiscovered.
”Do you know, I had quite begun to fear you were not going to appear to-night--that you were tired or unwell,” he said, as they made their way to the dancing-room.
”Bight and wrong. I was tired, and so rested instead of dressing earlier. Now I am all right again, and never felt so well in my life.”
”Nor looked it.”
It slipped out. The slightest possible flush came into Lilian's face.
”You must not pay me compliments, Mr Claverton,” she said, gravely, but with a smile lurking in her eyes. ”They are what you men call 'bad form.'”
”But consider the provocation.”
”Again? What am I to do to you? I know. I shall scold you. This is the second time to-day that you have reproached me for being late. This morning and now.”
_Certes_ the provocation was excessive. She was looking surpa.s.singly beautiful this evening, in creamy white, with a velvety rose of deepest crimson on her breast; another bud, a white one, nestling among the thick coils of her bronze-tinted dark hair. Many a glance of astonished admiration greeted her entrance, and followed her about the room; but the quiet repose of the lovely face was devoid of the least sign of self-consciousness.
”By Jove!” remarked Armitage to his partner, a chubby little ”bunch”
with big blue eyes and a b.u.t.ton mouth. ”Claverton's a sly dog.
_That's_ why he was in no hurry to begin. Oho, I see now.”
”She _is_ pretty. How well they look together!” was the reply, as the two stood against the wall to watch them.
Ethel, whirling by with the Civil Commissioner's clerk, caught the last remark. She would have given much to have been able to box poor little Gertie Wray's ears severely, then and there. That young lady babbled on, utterly void of offence.
”I say, though,” said her partner. ”She cut you out. Claverton was just on his way to ask you when she came in. He was, really.”
”Was he? Then he should have asked me before. My programme's full now.”
Meanwhile let us follow the pair under discussion.
”Who was that poor old man you were chaffing so, just now?” Lilian was saying.
”Only a curious specimen of natural history. But how do you know I was chaffing anybody?”
”Because I heard you. Who is he?”
”What perception you have got! 'He' is old Garrett, hight Joe, who migrated hither in the year one, to escape the terrible evil of having to dress for dinner.”
Lilian could not speak for laughing.