He passed up the double staircase (decorated with white or pale frocks of unparalleled richness), and so into the grand hall.  A scarlet orchestra was on the platform, and many people strolled about the floor in attitudes of expectation.  The walls were festooned with flowers.  The thrill of being magnificent seized him, and he was drenched in a vast desire to be truly magnificent himself.  He dreamt of magnificence and boot-brushes kept sticking out of this dream like black mud out of snow.  In his reverie he looked about for Ruth Earp, but she was invisible.  Then he went downstairs again, idly; gorgeously feigning that he spent six evenings a week in ascending and descending monumental staircases, appropriately clad.  He was determined to be as sublime as any one.

There was a stir in the corridor, and the sublimest consented to be excited.

The Countess was announced to be imminent.  Everybody was grouped round the main portal, careless of temperatures.  Six times was the Countess announced to be imminent before she actually appeared, expanding from the narrow gloom of her black carriage like a magic vision.  Aldermen received her—­and they did not do it with any excess of gracefulness.  They seemed afraid of her, as though she was recovering from influenza and they feared to catch it.  She had precisely the same high voice, and precisely the same efficient smile, as she had employed to Denry, and these instruments worked marvels on aldermen; they were as melting as salt on snow.  The Countess disappeared upstairs in a cloud of shrill apologies and trailing aldermen.  She seemed to have greeted everybody except Denry.  Somehow he was relieved that she had not drawn attention to him.  He lingered, hesitating, and then he saw a being in a long yellow overcoat, with a bit of peacock’s feather at the summit of a shiny high hat.  This being held a lady’s fur mantle.  Their eyes met.  Denry had to decide instantly.  He decided.

“Hello, Jock!” he said.

“Hello, Denry!” said the other, pleased.

“What’s been happening?” Denry inquired, friendly.

Then Jock told him about the antics of one of the Countess’s horses.

He went upstairs again, and met Ruth Earp coming down.  She was glorious in white.  Except that nothing glittered in her hair, she looked the very equal of the Countess, at a little distance, plain though her features were.

“What about that waltz?” Denry began informally.

“That waltz is nearly over,” said Ruth Earp, with chilliness.  “I suppose you’ve been staring at her ladyship with all the other men.”

“I’m awfully sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t know the waltz was——­”

“Well, why didn’t you look at your programme?”

“Haven’t got one,” he said naively.

He had omitted to take a programme.  Ninny!  Barbarian!

“Better get one,” she said cuttingly, somewhat in her role of dancing mistress.