pledged for a minuet and a valeta with me—you remember?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
“Yes. But——”
“I went to Nottingham and learned.”
“Why—because?—Very well, Leslie, a mazurka. Will you play it, Emily—Yes, it is quite easy. Tom, you look quite happy talking to the Mater.”
We danced the mazurka with the same partners. He did it better than I expected—without much awkwardness—but stiffly. However, he moved quietly through the dance, laughing and talking abstractedly all the time with Alice.
Then Lettie cried a change of partners, and they took their valeta. There was a little triumph in his smile.
“Do you congratulate me?” he said.
“I am surprised,” she answered.
“So am I. But I congratulate myself.”
“Do you? Well, so do I.”
“Thanks! You’re beginning at last.”
“What?” she asked.
“To believe in me.”
“Don’t begin to talk again,” she pleaded, sadly, “nothing vital.”
“Do you like dancing with me?” he asked.
“Now, be quiet—that’s real,” she replied.
“By Heaven, Lettie, you make me laugh!”
“Do I?” she said—“What if you married Alice—soon.”
“I—Alice!—Lettie!! Besides, I’ve only a hundred pounds in the world, and no prospects whatever.
