He laughed and let her go.

In the cloak-room people looked at her oddly, but beyond ordinary
greetings no one spoke to her. She did not know that it was solely
her utter wretchedness that kept them at a distance.

She entered the ballroom behind Mrs. Ingleton, and at once Preston
descended upon her again. He had scrawled his name against half a
dozen dances on her card before she realized what he was doing.
She began to protest, but again that deadly feeling of apathy
overcame her. She was worn out--worn out. What did it matter
whether she danced with the man or not?

Young Vernon Eversley, a friendly boy whom she had always liked,
pursed his lips when he saw her programme.

"It's true then, is it?" he said.

"What is true?" She looked at him questioningly, not feeling
greatly interested in his answer.

He met her look with straight, honest eyes. "I saw the
announcement of your engagement in the paper this morning; but
somehow I didn't believe it. He's a dashed lucky man."

That startled her out of her lethargy. She began a quick
disclaimer, but they were interrupted. One of the stewards came up
and swept young Eversley away.

The next moment Preston came and took possession of her. He was