"That was all arranged and written down ages ago. Let me see, I am
ticketed for the Major again."

"As you have been all day. I never saw such a cut and-dried, monotonous
programme for a party: all done by rule--no freedom of action."

"Really, Bertie, you and Miss Tremaine can't complain."

"That's why you are so cold to me to-night, Cecil," said Du Meresq,
quietly.

"What can it signify to me?" retorted she, freezingly, vexed at having
permitted the adversary, so to speak, to discover the joint in her
harness. Her partner, who had been hovering near, now claimed and bore
her unwillingly away, for next to being friends with Bertie was the
pleasure of "riling" him by smiling icyness. It was the only weapon she
permitted herself, as she would not condescend to any visible sign of
jealousy or pique.

Bertie was simply _gêné_ by her determination to be all or nothing; there
was no satisfying such an unreasonable girl. Like the immortal Lilyvick,
"he loved them all," yet her thoughtful mind and gentle companionship
were becoming more to him than he was himself aware of.

Cecil, valsing round, looked at each turn for his tall figure leaning
against the wall. It was an abstracted attitude, and he seemed graver
than usual.

"Had she made him unhappy?"--she trusted so--would give the world to read
his thoughts.