e
almost made up his mind that on some future day he would kick the man.

Late in the evening Marie Melmotte was waltzing with Felix Carbury,
and Henrietta Carbury was then standing by talking to one Mr Paul
Montague. Lady Carbury was also there. She was not well inclined
either to balls or to such people as the Melmottes; nor was Henrietta.
But Felix had suggested that, bearing in mind his prospects as to the
heiress, they had better accept the invitation which he would cause to
have sent to them. They did so; and then Paul Montague also got a
card, not altogether to Lady Carbury's satisfaction. Lady Carbury was
very gracious to Madame Melmotte for two minutes, and then slid into a
chair expecting nothing but misery for the evening. She, however, was
a woman who could do her duty and endure without complaint.

'It is the first great ball I ever was at in London,' said Hetta
Carbury to Paul Montague.

'And how do you like it?'

'Not at all. How should I like it? I know nobody here. I don't
understand how it is that at these parties people do know each other,
or whether they all go dancing about without knowing.'

'Just that; I suppose when they are used to it they get introduced
backwards and forwards, and then they can know each other as fast as
they like. If you would wish to dance why don't you dance with me?'

'I have danced with you,--twice already.'

'Is there any law against dancing three times?'

'But I don't especially want to dance,' said Henrietta. 'I think I'll
go and console poor mamma, who has got nobody to speak to her.' Just
at this moment, however, Lady Carbury was not in that wretched
condition, as an unexpected friend had come to her relief.

Sir Felix and Marie Melmotte had been spinning round and round
throughout a long waltz, thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the
music and the movement. To give Felix Carbury what little praise might
be his due, it is necessary to say that he did not lack physical
activity. He would dance, and ride, and shoot eagerly, with an
animation that made him happy for the moment. It was an affair not of
thought or calculation, but of physical organisation. And Marie
Melmotte had been thoroughly happy. She loved dancing with all her
heart if she could only dance in a manner pleasant to herself.

She had been warned especially as to some men,--that she should not
dance with them. She had been almost thrown into Lord Nidderdale's
arms, and had been prepared to t