The dim light commended itself to their silliness, and after hesitating a minute, the girl—­whoever she was—­allowed herself to be drawn into a room where she had no business to be.  Then, to make bad worse, they selected the lounge to sit upon, and I had to lie closely wedged against the wall, with “pins and needles” pricking all over my cramped body, while some man I didn’t know proposed and was accepted by some girl I shall probably never see.

They continued to sit, making a tremendous fuss about each other, until voices were “heard off,” as they say in the directions for theatricals, whereupon they sprang up and hurried out like “guilty things upon a fearful summons.”

By that time I was more dead than alive, but I did manage to crawl out of my prison, and creep up to my room by a back stairway which the servants use.  But it was very late now, and people were going, even the young ones who love dancing.  As soon as I was able, I scuttled out of my ball dress and into a dressing gown.  Also I undid my hair, which is my one beauty, and let it hang over my shoulders, streaming down in front on each side, so that nobody would know one shoulder is higher than the other.  It wasn’t that I was particularly anxious to appear well before Di (though I have enough vanity not to like the contrast between us to seem too great, even when she and I are alone), but because I wanted her to think, when she came to my room, that I’d been there a long time.

I was sure she would come and peep in at the door, to steal away if she found me asleep, or to enquire how I felt if I were awake.

By and by the handle of the door moved softly, just as I had expected, and seeing a light, Di came in.  It was late, and she had danced all night, but instead of looking tired she was radiant.  When she spoke, her voice was as gay and happy as Ivor’s had been when he first came into Lord Mountstuart’s study with the Foreign Secretary.

I said that I was much better, and had had a nice rest; that if I hadn’t wanted to hear how everything had gone at the ball, I should have been in bed and asleep long ago.

“Everything went very well,” said she.  “I think it was a great success.”

“Did you dance every dance?” I asked, working up slowly to what I meant to say.

“Except a few that I sat out.”

“I can guess who sat them out with you,” said I.  “Ivor Dundas.  And one was number thirteen, wasn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“He told me he was going to have thirteen with you.  Oh, you needn’t try to hide anything from me.  He tells most things to his ‘Imp.’  Was he nice when he proposed?”

“He didn’t propose.”

“I’ll give you the sapphire bracelet Lady Mountstuart gave me, if he didn’t tell you he loved you, and ask if there’d be a chance for him in case he got Algiers.”

“I wouldn’t take your bracelet even if—­if—.  But you’re a little witch, Lisa.”