battle-field of this Kensington ball-room.

Here and there, too, lovers--not lovers like Francie's, a peculiar breed,
but simply lovers--trembling, blushing, silent, sought each other by
flying glances, sought to meet and touch in the mazes of the dance, and
now and again dancing together, struck some beholder by the light in
their eyes.

Not a second before ten o'clock came the Jameses--Emily, Rachel, Winifred
(Dartie had been left behind, having on a former occasion drunk too much
of Roger's champagne), and Cicely, the youngest, making her debut; behind
them, following in a hansom from the paternal mansion where they had
dined, Soames and Irene.

All these ladies had shoulder-straps and no tulle--thus showing at once,
by a bolder exposure of flesh, that they came from the more fashionable
side of the Park.

Soames, sidling back from the contact of the dancers, took up a position
against the wall. Guarding himself with his pale smile, he stood
watching. Waltz after waltz began and ended, couple after couple brushed
by with smiling lips, laughter, and snatches of talk; or with set lips,
and eyes searching the throng; or again, with silent, parted lips, and
eyes on each other. And the scent of festivity, the odour of flowers,
and hair, of essences that women love, rose suffocatingly in the heat of
the summer night.

Silent, with something of scorn in his smile, Soames seemed to notice
nothing; but now and again his eyes, finding that which they sought,
would fix themselves on a point in the shifting throng, and the smile die
off his lips.

He danced with no one. Some fellows danced with their wives; his sense
of 'form' had never permitted him to dance with Irene since their
marriage, and the God of the Forsytes alone can tell whether this was a
relief to him or not.

She passed, dancing with other men, her dress, iris-coloured, floating
away from her feet. She danced well; he was tired of hearing women say
with an acid smile: "How beautifully your wife dances, Mr. Forsyte--it's
quite a pleasure to watch her!" Tired of answering them with his
sidelong glance: "You think so?"

A young couple close by flirted a fan by turns, making an unpleasant
draught. Francie and one of her lovers stood near. They were talking of
love.

He heard Roger's voice behind, giving an order about supper to a servant.
Everything was very second-class! He wished that he had not come! He
had asked Irene whether she wanted him;