“You mustn’t let him monopolize you,” said Scott.  “He has plenty to choose from, you know.  Others haven’t.”

She laughed.  “He says—­I wonder if it’s true!—­he says I am the best dancer he has ever met!”

Scott smiled at her beaming face.  “That is very nice—­for him,” he observed.  “I thought you seemed to be getting on very well.”

Her eyes travelled across the room again to her late partner and the beautiful Miss de Vigne.  She watched them intently for a few seconds.

“Poor Rose!” she said suddenly.

Scott was watching her.  “Isn’t she a good dancer?” he asked.

She turned back to him.  “Oh yes, I believe she is.  She always has plenty of partners anyway.  At least I’ve always heard so.  Is your sister dancing?  I don’t think I can have seen her yet.”

“No.  She is in her sitting-room upstairs.  I wanted her to come down, but she wouldn’t be persuaded.  She—­” Scott hesitated a moment—­“is not fond of gaiety.”

“Then I shan’t see her!” said Dinah in tones of genuine disappointment.  “I did so want to thank her for lending me these lovely things.”

“I can take you to her if you’ll come,” said Scott.

“Oh, can you?  Yes, I’ll come.  I can come now.  But are you sure she will like it?” Dinah’s bright eyes met his with frank directness.  “I don’t want to intrude on her, you know,” she said.

He smiled a little.  “I am sure you won’t intrude.  Shall we go then?  Are you sure there is no one else you want to dance with here?”

“Oh, quite sure.”  Again momentarily Dinah’s look sought her late partner; then briskly she stood up.

Scott rose also, and gave her his arm.  She bestowed a small, friendly squeeze upon it.  “I’ve never enjoyed myself so much before,” she said.  “And it’s all your doing.”

“Oh, not really!” he said.

She nodded vigorously.  “But it is!  I should never have been presentable but for you.  And I should certainly never have danced with your brother.  He has actually promised to help me with my skating to-morrow.  Isn’t it kind of him?”

“I wonder,” said Scott.

“What do you wonder?” Dinah looked at him curiously.

But he only smiled a baffling smile, and turned the subject.  “Wouldn’t you like something to drink before we go up?”

Dinah declined.  She was not in the least thirsty.  She did not feel as if she would ever want to eat or drink again.

“Only to dance!” said Scott.  “Well, I mustn’t keep you long then.  Who is that lady making signs to you?  Hadn’t you better go and speak to her?”

“Oh, bother!” said Dinah.  “You come too, then.  It’s only Lady Grace—­Rose’s mother.  I’m sure it can’t be anything important.”

Scott piloted her across the vestibule to the couch on which Lady Grace sat.  She was a large, fair woman with limpid eyes and drawling speech.  She extended a plump white hand to the girl.