I hurried to escape. I longed to be by myself that I might recall Ned's
every look and word. Without reason--against reason--I felt that at any
minute Ned might come, and waves of happiness and dread and impatience
swept over me, and kept me smiling and singing and running anxiously to my
glass.
Ned loves my beauty; I pulled down my hair and reknotted it and pulled it
down again, fearful--so foolish have I grown--lest I might fail to please
him; and frowned over my dresses and rummaged bureau drawers for ribbons,
until Milly, who had tapped at my door and entered almost without my
notice, asked abruptly:--
"Who's coming?"
"No one; John--no, he's out of town."
I flushed to see her regard the litter about me with calm deliberateness.
"Oh, you don't have to take pains for John," she said with a short laugh.
"But come; Meg's down stairs."
The General had followed Milly up; she whisked into the room, showering me
with congratulations on my success at the dance, she claimed me for a
dinner, a concert--half a dozen engagements.
"Oh, by the way," she said, checking her flood of gossip. "Who d'you
suppose is to be at the Charity Ball? Lord Strathay.
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