"It was noble of him!" I exclaimed, when Sacha stopped for comment.
"I could tell you many more anecdotes of that sort," continued the young man earnestly.
"But you are wanted by the Countess Piloff," said Mr. Thurber's voice above me.
As Sacha hurried away, Tom remarked in a dazed tone, "When that fellow gets wound up, it takes a good while for him to run down. His tongue has been going at the rate of a mile a minute ever since he left the piano."
"Tom," I remonstrated, "how can you speak in that way? He was very entertaining."
"He would drive me to commit suicide at the end of two hours," persisted Tom, as he walked away from me.
George had disappeared, and Mr. Thurber took the seat which he had vacated. "You are thoughtful to-night, Miss Dorris."
"You are the second person who has told me so, Mr. Chilton Thurber," I retorted audaciously.
"I must beg pardon," he said, "but really, you know, with two Miss Romillys, it is so confusing."
"You owe me no apology. On the contrary, I should thank you, for this is the first time you have ever called me by my name." I looked at him with a smile which was meant to be conciliatory.
"I believe I seldom call people by their names; but I like yours, because it was my mother's. I have never known any one else named Dorris."
His voice grew quite soft as he pronounced my name:
