The Argosy — page 31: what you’re looking at

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16 The White Witch. ‘Oh, but it is the supper-dance; surely you dance that with Miss Thornhill,” cried Ernest, his temper rising. “No; with Miss Dixon.” They looked steadily at each other; Ernest was loud and restless, Godfrey languid and soft-voiced to affectation, both assuming the manner best calculated to annoy the other. For both knew quite well that at heart they were rivals. ‘“Miss Dixon has promised the supper-dance to me,” said Ernest. “T think you will find my name on her programme for the fourth waltz,” returned Godfrey, stroking his moustache. ‘Perhaps we had better let Miss Dixon decide the matter?” ‘‘T think so, certainly.” She was coming downstairs at this moment, pale, with the traces of tears still visible in her eyes: which made her doubly interesting in the sight of the two young men impatiently waiting for her decision. ‘‘T think this is my waltz, Miss Dixon, isn’t it?” ‘*‘Tt’s the supper-dance,” said Ernest. She turned to Godfrey. ‘‘1’m so sorry. I promised this—a long time ago to—to Ernest,” she answered, watching him nervously. He bowed and stepped back, while she went off on Ernest’s arm. By a lucky chance he almost ran against Elspeth, for he would not have remembered to look for her. They waltzed and went in to supper together, Godfrey not knowing in the least what he was saying to her, though he chattered and laughed and drank all through supper, his eyes wandering in Mary’s direction every other moment. He could see that she and Ernest were both grave and silent, but absorbed in each other. Godfrey was temperate by nature and habit, but to-night he could eat nothing, and as he drank off glass after glass of champagne his talk grew faster, his laugh louder, his restless glances up the table more frequent, until Elspeth wondered what was the matter with him, and Mrs. Thornhill from the other end of the table watched him with anxious disapproval. As he was leading Elspeth from the room her mother stopped her, said she looked tired and had better not join in the next dance. So Godfrey was turning away, when a hand, whose touch he knew, sent a thrill through him. “If you are not engaged for this dance, I will give it you instead of the waltz we missed,” said Mary, with almost a pleading face. They returned to the ball-room and joined in the galop; but they had not gone once round the room before Mary stopped him. ‘“‘] think I am too tired to dance,” said she tremulously ; and he led her into the conservatory and leant against the framework of the door in front of her while she sank down on a low ottoman. ‘You are not tired?” she began. “No,” he replied. “You are angry with me?” ““No. What right have I to be angry? When you fancied that GEomicbooks.co