VII

"She can't eat me. She can't eat me!"

This was what he said to himself as he crossed the floor. People seemed
to make a lane for him, divining his incredible intention. If he had not
started at once, if his legs had not started of themselves, he would
never have started; and, not being in command of a fiver, he would
afterwards have cut a preposterous figure in the group. But started he
was, like a piece of clockwork that could not be stopped! In the grand
crises of his life something not himself, something more powerful than
himself, jumped up in him and forced him to do things. Now for the first
time he seemed to understand what had occurred within him in previous
crises.

In a second--so it appeared--he had reached the Countess. Just behind
her was his employer, Mr Duncalf, whom Denry had not previously noticed
there. Denry regretted this, for he had never mentioned to Mr Duncalf
that he was coming to the ball, and he feared Mr Duncalf.

"Could I have this dance with you?" he demanded bluntly, but smiling and
showing his teeth.

No ceremonial title! No mention of "pleasure" or "honour." Not a trace
of the formula in which Ruth Earp had instructed him! He forgot all such
trivialities.

"I've won that fiver, Mr Harold Etches," he said to himself.