- oped in trailing clouds of glory. But Constance—Constance,
with her woman's wit, had seen that some one else besides Crane deserved the credit for that effort. He made no reply to her questions beyond a slight smile, but he let it be seen that she had hit the bull's eye.
"Mr. Crane tells me he knows you," he said, presently.
"Yes," answered Constance. "He has been a few times to see me. Last night I met him at the ball at the French Embassy. I danced with him."
"He owned up to me some time ago that he was taking dancing-lessons—at forty-two, with a wife and children in Circleville. I fancy his performance answers the description that Herodotus gives of the dancing of Hippocleides—it is diverting to himself, but disgusting to others."
"On the contrary, he dances very well—when he is not trying to do his best. Perhaps you are surprised that I should still care to dance—but remember, pray, my mother was Creole French."
And to this Thorndyke made a speech which brought the blood into Constance Maitland's cheeks, knocking ten years off her age at once.
