ke the rooms so small?" she said pathetically; a speech which was
repeated from mouth to mouth like a witticism, as something so
characteristic of the young Italian, w hose marble halls would never be
overcrowded: though, as a matter of fact, Bice knew very little of
marble halls.

"Were you ever in the gallery at the Hall?" she asked. "To go from one
end to the other, that was worth the while. It was as if one flew."

"I never knew they danced down there," said Montjoie. "I thought it very
dull, don't you know, till you appeared. If I had known you had dances,
and fun going on, and other fellows cutting one out----"

"There was but one other fellow," said Bice gravely. "I have seen in
this country no one like him. Ah, why is he not here? He is more fun
than any one, but better than fun. He is----"

Montjoie's countenance was like a thunder-cloud big with fire and flame.

"Trevor, I suppose you mean. I never thought that duffer could dance. He
was a great sap at school, and a hideous little prig, giving himself
such airs! But if you think all that of him----"

"It was not Mr. Trevor," said Bice. Then catching sight of Lady Randolph
at a little distance, she made a dart towards her on her partner's arm.

"I am telling Lord Montjoie of my partner at the Hall," she said. "Ah,
Milady, let him come and look! How he would clap his hands to see the
lights and the flowers. But we could not have our gymnastique with all
the people here."

Lucy was very pale; standing alone, abstracted amid the gay crowd, as if
she did not very well know where she was.

"Baby? Oh, he is quite well, he is fast asleep," she said, looking up
with dim eyes. And then there broke forth a little faint smile on her
face. "You were always good to him," she said.

"So it was the baby," said Montjoie, delighted. "What a one you are to
frighten a fellow. If it had been Trevor I think I'd have killed him.
How jolly of you to do gymnastics with that little beggar; he's
dreadfully delicate, ain't he, not likely to live? But you're awfully
cruel to me. You think no more of giving a wring to my heart than if it
was a bit of rag. I think you'd like to see the blood come."

"Let us dance," said Bice with great composure. She was bent upon
enjoyment. She had not calculated upon any conversation. Indeed she
objected to conversation on this point even when it did not interfere
with the waltz. All could be settled much more easily by the Contessa,
and if ma