think the dancing was the greater penance, since I never had much to say to men of whom I know nothing:  the dances seem interminable, and I am ever haunted by a vague feeling that my partner is looking out over my head for some one prettier and more lively, which is not inspiring.  I must not forget a little incident, as we came up the stairs into the ball-room.  With my customary awkwardness I dropped my fan, and was about to stoop for it, when some one who had been following us darted forward and presented it to me.  I curtsied low, he bowed lower; our eyes met for a moment, and then he fell behind.  It was by his eyes that I recognized him afterwards in the ball-room, for in the momentary glance on the stairs I had not had time to observe his prominent height and fine features.  How strangely one’s fancy is sometimes seized upon by a foolish wish!  My modest desire last night was to dance with this Mr. George Manners, the handsomest man and best dancer of the room, to be whose partner even Harriet was proud.  Though I had not a word for my second-rate partners, I fancied that I could talk to him.  Oh, foolish heart! how I chid myself for my folly in watching his tall figure thread the dances, in fancying that I had met his eyes many times that evening, and, above all, for the throb of jealous disappointment that came with every dance when he did not do what I never soberly expected he would—­ask me.  A little before twelve I was sitting out among the turbans, when I saw him standing at some distance, and unmistakably looking at me.  A sudden horror seized me that something was wrong—­my hair coming down, my dress awry—­and I was not comforted by Harriet passing at this moment with—­

“’What! sitting out still?  You should be more lively, child!  Men don’t like dancing with dummies.’

“When her dress had whisked past me I looked up and saw him again, but at that moment he sharply turned his back on me and walked into the card-room.  I was sitting still when he came out again with Mr. Topham.  The music had just struck up, the couples were gathering; he was going to dance then.  I looked down at my bouquet with tears in my eyes, and was trying hard to subdue my folly and to count the petals of a white camellia, when Mr. Topham’s voice close by me said—­

“‘Miss Dorothy Lascelles, may I introduce Mr. Manners to you?’ and in two seconds more my hand was in his arm, and he was saying in a voice as commonplace as if the world had not turned upside down—­

“‘I think it is Sir Roger.’

“It is a minor satisfaction to me to reflect that, for once in my life, I was right.  I did talk to Mr. George Manners.  The first thing I said was—­

“‘I am very much obliged to you for picking up my fan.’  To which he replied (if it can be called a reply)—­

“‘I wish I had known sooner that you were Miss Lascelles’ sister.’

“I said, ‘Did you not see her with me on the stairs?’ and he answered—­