He
presently drew near and bade her good-evening; she had not seen him
since the day before. He looked about him, and then "Where's the
little maid?" he asked. It was in this manner that he had formed the
harmless habit of alluding to Miss Osmond.
"She's dancing," said Isabel. "You'll see her somewhere."
He looked among the dancers and at last caught Pansy's eye. "She
sees me, but she won't notice me," he then remarked. "Are you not
dancing?"
"As you see, I'm a wall-flower."
"Won't you dance with me?"
"Thank you; I'd rather you should dance with the little maid."
"One needn't prevent the other-especially as she's engaged."
"She's not engaged for everything, and you can reserve yourself. She
dances very hard, and you'll be the fresher."
"She dances beautifully," said Lord Warburton, following her with
his eyes. "Ah, at last," he added, "she has given me a smile." He
stood there with his handsome, easy, important physiognomy; and as
Isabel observed him it came over her, as it had done before, that it
was strange a man of his mettle should take an interest in a little
maid. It struck her as a great incongruity; neither Pansy's small
fascinations, nor his own kindness, his good-nature, not even his need
for amusement, which was extreme and constant, were sufficient to
account for it.
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