Part 37 (1/2)
”Oh no, neither do I,” says a pretty little woman next to her, a bride of a few weeks, who, with her husband, has just come up.
”I have you on my side then, Lady Selton?” says Mrs. Chichester.
Lady Selton nods her reply. She is panting, and fanning herself audibly. Without the slightest ear for music, she has been plunging round the room with her husband, who is still so far infatuated as to half believe she can dance. She is an extremely pretty woman, so one can condone his idiocy.
At this moment Hescott appears. He goes straight to the bride. He has been sent, indeed, by Lady Warbeck.
”Will you give me the pleasure of this dance, Lady Selton?” asks he.
”It? What is it?” nervously.
”A waltz.”
He is smiling at her. She has a charming figure. Of course she can dance. Tom Hescott would not have asked the loveliest woman in the land to waltz with him, if he knew her to be a bad dancer.
”I can't waltz at all,” says the bride. But her husband comes to the rescue.
”Oh, nonsense!” says he, smilingly. ”Hescott dances so well that he will teach you. Go, go with him.” He gives her a playful little push towards Hescott, who is looking very blank. ”You'll get into it in no time.”
”Get into it.”
The disgust that is writ so large on Hescott's face, as he leads her away, makes Mrs. Chichester shake with laughter.
”He'll find it a slight difference after Lady Rylton's waltzing,”
says she to Marryatt.
”He'll find a difference in every way. Lady Selton is devoted to her husband----”
”And Lady Rylton----”
_”Well!”_ He hesitates.
”How vague! But I know, I know! By-the-bye,” with a swift change of tone that quite deceives him, ”which do you admire most?”
”Oh, Lady Rylton, of course. Lady Selton is pretty--in a way--but----”
”Then you prefer the woman who is _not_ devoted to her husband?”
”I don't see how that argument comes in,” says he quickly. ”Some husbands are--are----”
”Quite true. They are indeed,” interrupts Mrs. Chichester, who seems to be enjoying herself. ”But what an aspersion on poor Sir Maurice.”
”I wasn't thinking of him,” says Marryatt hurriedly.
”Of whom then?”
She fixes her eyes full on his--eyes merry with mischief.
”Oh, I don't know,” says he confusedly.