It caused him to turn abruptly.  Breaking off in the midst of a sentence, he quitted the countess and went to meet those who had entered.  Lady Verner’s greeting was a somewhat elaborate one, and he looked round impatiently for Decima.

She stood in the shade behind her mother.  Decima?  Was that Decima?  What had she done to her cheeks?  They wore the crimson hectic which were all too characteristic of Sibylla’s.  Sir Edmund took her hand.

“I trust you are well?”

“Quite well, thank you,” was her murmured answer, drawing away the hand which had barely touched his.

Nothing could be more quiet than the meeting, nothing more simple than the words spoken; nothing, it may be said, more commonplace.  But that Decima was suffering from some intense agitation, there could be no doubt; and the next moment her face had turned of that same ghastly hue which had startled her brother Lionel when he was handing her into the carriage.  Sir Edmund continued speaking with them a few minutes, and then was called off to receive other guests.

“Have you forgotten how to dance, Edmund?”

The question came from Miss Hautley, disturbing him as he made the centre of a group to whom he was speaking of his Indian life.

“I don’t suppose I have,” he said, turning to her.  “Why?”

“People are thinking so,” said Miss Hautley.  “The music has been bursting out into fresh attempts this last half-hour, and impatience is getting irrepressible.  They cannot begin, Edmund, without you.  Your partner is waiting.”

“My partner?” reiterated Sir Edmund.  “I have asked nobody yet.”

“But I have, for you.  At least, I have as good as done it.  Lady Constance——­”

“Oh, my dear aunt, you are very kind,” he hastily interrupted, “but when I do dance—­which is of rare occurrence—­I like to choose my own partner.  I must do so now.”

“Well, take care, then,” was the answer of Miss Hautley, not deeming it necessary to drop her voice in the least.  “The room is anxious to see upon whom your choice will be fixed; it may be a type, they are saying, of what another choice of yours may be.”

Sir Edmund laughed good-humouredly, making a joke of the allusion.  “Then I must walk round deliberately and look out for myself—­as it is said some of our royal reigning potentates have done.  Thank you for the hint.”

But, instead of walking round deliberately, Sir Edmund Hautley proceeded direct to one point of the room, halting before Lady Verner and Decima.  He bent to the former, speaking a few words in a joking tone.

“I am bidden to fix upon a partner, Lady Verner.  May it be your daughter?”

Lady Verner looked at Decima.  “She so seldom dances.  I do not think you will persuade her.”

“I think I can,” he softly said, bending to Decima and holding out his arm.  And Decima rose and put hers into it without a word.