though answering some question he had asked, and he was gazing at her
intently.

Soames looked again at June. Her hand rested on old Jolyon's arm; she
seemed to be making a request. He saw a surprised look on his uncle's
face; they turned and passed through the door out of his sight.

The music began again--a waltz--and, still as a statue in the recess of
the window, his face unmoved, but no smile on his lips, Soames waited.
Presently, within a yard of the dark balcony, his wife and Bosinney
passed. He caught the perfume of the gardenias that she wore, saw the
rise and fall of her bosom, the languor in her eyes, her parted lips, and
a look on her face that he did not know. To the slow, swinging measure
they danced by, and it seemed to him that they clung to each other; he
saw her raise her eyes, soft and dark, to Bosinney's, and drop them
again.

Very white, he turned back to the balcony, and leaning on it, gazed down
on the Square; the figures were still there looking up at the light with
dull persistency, the policeman's face, too, upturned, and staring, but
he saw nothing of them. Below, a carriage drew up, two figures got in,
and drove away....

That evening June and old Jolyon sat down to dinner at the usual hour.
The girl was in her customary high-necked frock, old Jolyon had not
dressed.

At breakfast she had spoken of the dance at Uncle Roger's, she wanted to
go; she had been stupid enough, she said, not to think of asking anyone
to take her. It was too late now.

Old Jolyon lifted his keen eyes. June was used to go to dances with
Irene as a matter of course! and deliberately fixing his gaze on her, he
asked: "Why don't you get Irene?"

No! June did not want to ask Irene; she would only go if--if her
grandfather wouldn't mind just for once for a little time!

At her look, so eager and so worn, old Jolyon had grumblingly consented.
He did not know what she wanted, he said, with going to a dance like
this, a poor affair, he would wager; and she no more fit for it than a
cat! What she wanted was sea air, and after his general meeting of the
Globular Gold Concessions he was ready to take her. She didn't want to
go away? Ah! she would knock herself up! Stealing a mournful look at
her, he went on with his breakfast.

June went out early, and wandered restlessly about in the heat. Her
little light figure that lately had moved so languidly about its
business, was all on fire. She bought herself