“That is because you always deserve it.”  He put his head on one side like an aldermanic robin.  “Ah, if you knew how many compliments I do pay you which you never hear!  My entire life is a compliment to you,” declared Mr. Rimmon.

“Not your entire life, Mr. Rimmon.  You are like some other men.  You confound me with some one else; for I am sure I heard you saying the same thing five minutes ago to Louise Wentworth.”

“Impossible.  Then I must have confounded her with you,” sighed Mr. Rimmon, with such a look at Mrs. Lancaster out of his languishing eyes that she gave him a laughing tap with her fan.

“Go and practise that on a debutante.  I am an old married woman, remember.”

“Ah, me!” sighed the gentleman. “’Marriage and Death and Division make barren our lives.’”

“Where does that come from?” asked Mrs. Lancaster.

“Ah! from—­ah—­” began Mr. Rimmon, then catching Keith’s eyes resting on him with an amused look in them, he turned red.

She addressed Keith.  “Mr. Keith, you quoted that to me once; where does it come from?  From the Bible?”

“No.”

“I read it in the newspaper and was so struck by it that I remembered it,” said Mr. Rimmon.

“I read it in ‘Laus Veneris,’” said Keith, dryly, with his eyes on the other’s face.  It pleased him to see it redden.

Keith, as he passed through the rooms, caught sight of an old lady over in a corner.  He could scarcely believe his senses; it was Miss Abigail.  She was sitting back against the wall, watching the crowd with eyes as sharp as needles.  Sometimes her thin lips twitched, and her bright eyes snapped with inward amusement.  Keith made his way over to her.  She was so much engaged that he stood beside her a moment without her seeing him.  Then she turned and glanced at him.

“‘A chiel’s amang ye takin’ notes,’” he said, laughing and holding out his hand.

“‘An’, faith! she’ll prent ’em,’” she answered, with a nod.  “How are you?  I am glad to see you.  I was just wishing I had somebody to enjoy this with me, but not a man.  I ought to be gone; and so ought you, young man.  I started, but I thought if I could get in a corner by myself where there were no men I might stay a little while and look at it; for I certainly never saw anything like this before, and I don’t think I ever shall again.  I certainly do not think you ought to see it.”

Keith laughed, and she continued: 

“I knew things had changed since I was a girl; but I didn’t know it was as bad as this.  Why, I don’t think it ought to be allowed.”

“What?” asked Keith.

“This.”  She waved her hand to include the dancing throng before them.  “They tell me all those women dancing around there are married.”

“I believe many of them are.”

“Why don’t those young women have partners?”

“Why, some of them do.  I suppose the others are not attractive enough, or something.”