The way paved for possible contingencies, he escaped from this crowd of women, and once more began his search for Theodora.  She would certainly return to Josiah some time.  To go straight to him would be the best plan.

Josiah was standing absolutely alone by one of the windows in the ballroom, and looked pitiably uncomfortable and ill at ease in his knee-breeches and silk stockings.

He had experienced such pleasure when he had tried them on, and had enjoyed walking through the hall at Claridge’s to his carriage, knowing the people there would be aware it meant he was going to meet the most august Royalty.

But now he felt uncomfortable, and kept standing first on one leg, then on the other.  Theodora had not returned to him yet:  the next dance had not begun.

This great world contained discomfort as well as pleasure, he decided.

Hector walked straight over to him and was excessively polite and agreeable, and Josiah’s equanimity was somewhat restored.

What could have happened to Theodora?  Where had that beast Wensleydown taken her?  Not to supper—­surely not to supper?—­were Lord Bracondale’s thoughts.

And then with the first notes of the next dance she reappeared.  It seemed to him she was looking superbly lovely:  a faint pink suffused her cheeks, and her eyes were shining with the excitement of the scene.

A mad rush of passion surged over Hector; his turn had come, he thought.

Lord Wensleydown seemed loath to release her, and showed signs of staying to talk awhile.  So Hector interposed at once.

“May I not have this dance?  I have been looking for you everywhere,” he said.

Theodora told him she was tired, and she stood close to her husband; tired—­and also she was quite sure Josiah would be bored left all alone, so she wished to stay with him.

But Mrs. Devlyn made a reappearance just then, and as they spoke they saw Josiah give her his arm and lead her away.

Thus Theodora was left standing alone with Lord Bracondale.

Fate seemed always to nullify her good intentions.

It was an exquisite waltz, and the music mounted to both their brains.

For one moment the room appeared to reel in front of her, and then she found herself whirling in his arms.  Oh, what bliss it was, after this long week of separation!  What folly and maddening bliss!

Her senses were tingling; her lithe, exquisite, willowy body thrilled and quivered in his embrace.  And they both realized what a waltz could be, as a medium for joy.

“We will only have two turns until the crowd gets impossible again,” he whispered, “and then I will take you to supper.”

Lady Anningford had been rejoined by the Crow, and now stood watching them.  She and her companion were silent for a moment, and then: 

“By Jove!” Colonel Lowerby said.  “She is certainly worth going to hell for, to look at even—­and they don’t appear as if they would take long on the road.”