' says Lippa.

'No; not at all, I assure you--'

'Don't waste time then looking at it, fetch another quickly,' and
Philippa begins hastily to cover her own bare hands. 'Chubby,' she calls
after him, 'they're beginning to dance. I can't keep this one for you,
the next one will do just as well, won't it?'

'Quite,' is the reply as he ascends the stairs three steps at a time;
while she becomes aware of two men making for her, Harkness and
Dalrymple, the former she feels will reach her first, and she has no
desire to dance with him: so she suddenly feels that she ought to be
nearer her sister-in-law, and edging her way through the crowd gains her
chaperon's side, a second before Jimmy comes up.

'May I have this?' he says eagerly, and receiving an affirmative, he
leads her off to the ball-room, where the "Garden of Sleep" waltz is
echoing through the well-lighted apartment, and the air is fragrant with
the scent of many flowers. Already a goodly crowd is there, mammas,
elderly spinsters, girls of all sizes and ages, in satin, silks, and
tulle; old men, middle-aged men, young men and mere boys are all
collected there. In a second Dalrymple and Philippa join in the giddy
dance; for what is more giddifying (if I may use such a word), than
waltzing in a room full of people who have not summoned up courage
enough to begin, round and round they go, till Miss Seaton at length
says, 'I think I really must stop although the best part of the tune is
just coming. We can't be like the river, can we, going on forever:'

'Men may come and men may go,'
'But I go on forever.'

She murmurs more to herself than to him, as they make their way to the
conservatory, and then, 'Do you like poetry?' she asks.

'Pretty well, I don't read much of it.'

'I am so fond of it,' replies Philippa, settling herself comfortably on
a sofa surrounded by cushions, 'I could read it all day.'

'Ah, you see you have more time to do what you like, but when a fellow
has been at work all day, he doesn't feel inclined for poetry, you've
got nothing to do except to read and do fancy work, I suppose.'

'That's a mistake that all men make, they think that girls have nothing
to do all day, when they have quite as much as men if not more; you
don't know anything about them. And I think poetry is the _most_ restful
thing to read when one's tired, you see our minds soar to higher things
than yours, you study the _Racing Calendar_ and the newspapers, don't