She looked at him earnestly.

“I owe you more than a few dances can pay,” she said simply.

“Thank you, little friend,” he said, and a happy feeling thrilled her at his words.  He had not forgotten her, then.  He used to call her that sometimes in Ranga Duar.  She was still his little friend.  What a delightful place the world was after all!

As he pencilled his initials on her programme a horde of dance-hungry men swooped down on Noreen and almost pushed him aside.  He bowed and strolled away to watch the dancing.  He had no desire to obtain other partners and was content to watch his little friend of the forest, who seemed to have suddenly become a very lovely woman.  She seemed very gay and happy, he thought.  He noticed that she danced oftenest with Melville and a tall, fair man whom he did not know.

Never had the early part of a ball seemed to Noreen to drag so much as this one did.  She felt that her partners must find her very stupid indeed, for she paid no attention to what they said and answered at random.

At last almost in a trance of happiness she found herself gliding round the room with Dermot’s arm about her.  The band was playing a dreamy waltz, and her partner danced perfectly.  Neither of them spoke.  Noreen could not; she felt that all she wanted was to float, on air it seemed, held close to Dermot’s breast.  She gave a sigh when the dance ended.  In the interval she did not want to talk; it was enough to look at his face, to hear his voice.  She hated her next partner when he came to claim her.

But she had two more dances with Dermot before the band struck up “The Roast Beef of Old England,” and the ballroom emptied.  At supper he contrived to secure a small table at which they were alone; so they were able to talk without constraint.  She began to wonder how she had ever thought him grave and stern or felt in awe of him.  For in the gay atmosphere his Irish nature was uppermost; he was as light-hearted as a boy, and his conversation was almost frivolous.

During supper Noreen saw Ida watching her across the room, and later on, when the dancing began again, her friend cornered her.

“I say, darling, who is the new man you’ve been dancing with such a lot tonight?  You had supper with him, too.  I’ve never seen him before.  He’s awfully good-looking.”

“Oh, that is—­I suppose you mean Major Dermot,” replied the girl, feeling suddenly shy.

“Major Dermot?  Who’s he?  What is—­Oh, is it the wonderful hero from the Terai, the man you told me so much about when you came up?”

“Yes; he is the same.”

“Really?  How interesting!  He’s so distinguished-looking.  When did he come up?  Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?”

“I didn’t know it myself.”

“I should love to meet him.  Introduce him to me.  Now, at once.”