She would have liked to discuss politics, which interested her more than personalities, but Mrs. Elliot would only talk about the Empire in a less abstract form.

“I hear there are dreadful accounts from England about the rats,” she said.  “A sister-in-law, who lives at Norwich, tells me it has been quite unsafe to order poultry.  The plague—­you see.  It attacks the rats, and through them other creatures.”

“And the local authorities are not taking proper steps?” asked Mrs. Thornbury.

“That she does not say.  But she describes the attitude of the educated people—­who should know better—­as callous in the extreme.  Of course, my sister-in-law is one of those active modern women, who always takes things up, you know—­the kind of woman one admires, though one does not feel, at least I do not feel—­but then she has a constitution of iron.”

Mrs. Elliot, brought back to the consideration of her own delicacy, here sighed.

“A very animated face,” said Mrs. Thornbury, looking at Evelyn M. who had stopped near them to pin tight a scarlet flower at her breast.  It would not stay, and, with a spirited gesture of impatience, she thrust it into her partner’s button-hole.  He was a tall melancholy youth, who received the gift as a knight might receive his lady’s token.

“Very trying to the eyes,” was Mrs. Eliot’s next remark, after watching the yellow whirl in which so few of the whirlers had either name or character for her, for a few minutes.  Bursting out of the crowd, Helen approached them, and took a vacant chair.

“May I sit by you?” she said, smiling and breathing fast.  “I suppose I ought to be ashamed of myself,” she went on, sitting down, “at my age.”

Her beauty, now that she was flushed and animated, was more expansive than usual, and both the ladies felt the same desire to touch her.

“I am enjoying myself,” she panted.  “Movement—­isn’t it amazing?”

“I have always heard that nothing comes up to dancing if one is a good dancer,” said Mrs. Thornbury, looking at her with a smile.

Helen swayed slightly as if she sat on wires.

“I could dance for ever!” she said.  “They ought to let themselves go more!” she exclaimed.  “They ought to leap and swing.  Look!  How they mince!”

“Have you seen those wonderful Russian dancers?” began Mrs. Elliot.  But Helen saw her partner coming and rose as the moon rises.  She was half round the room before they took their eyes off her, for they could not help admiring her, although they thought it a little odd that a woman of her age should enjoy dancing.

Directly Helen was left alone for a minute she was joined by St. John Hirst, who had been watching for an opportunity.

“Should you mind sitting out with me?” he asked.  “I’m quite incapable of dancing.”  He piloted Helen to a corner which was supplied with two arm-chairs, and thus enjoyed the advantage of semi-privacy.  They sat down, and for a few minutes Helen was too much under the influence of dancing to speak.