“His brother is very upset about it,” Andrew remarked.

“Oh! the Duke was always a heavy old stick,” Cecil answered.  “I see you’ve been doing your duty to-night,” he added, making a determined effort to change the conversation.

Andrew nodded.

“Do I look so hot?” he asked.  “I am not used to these close rooms, or dancing either.  Unfortunately they seem short of men, and Mrs. Bellamy Smith had me set.”

Cecil grinned.

“That’s the worst of dining before a dance,” he remarked.  “You’re pretty well cornered before the crowd comes.  Upon my word, old chap,” he added, looking his brother up and down with an air of kindly patronage, “you don’t turn out half badly.  Country tailor still, eh?”

“Mind your own business, you young jackanapes,” Andrew answered.  “Do you think that no one can wear town clothes except yourself?”

Cecil laughed.  After all, considering everything, Andrew was a good-natured fellow.

“By the by,” he said, “do you know who is here this evening?”

Andrew demolished another sandwich.

“Every one, I should think,” he answered.  “I never saw such a crowd in my life.”

“The Princess and Jeanne are here,” Cecil said.  “I don’t suppose we shall either of us get near them.  People are getting to know about Jeanne’s little dot, and they are fairly mobbed everywhere.”

Andrew stood for a moment quite still.  His first emotion was one of dismay, and Cecil, noticing it, laughed at him.

“You can go ahead with your little flirtation,” he remarked.  “I had quite forgotten that.  You needn’t consider me.  I haven’t a chance with Miss Jeanne.  She’s too cranky a young person for me.  I like something with a little more go in it.”

Cecil drifted away, and Andrew glanced at his card.  There were two dances for which he was still engaged, and he made his way slowly back to the ballroom.  There was a slight block at the entrance, and he had to stand aside to let several couples pass out.  One of the last of these was Jeanne, on the arm of young Bellamy Smith.  Andrew stood quite still looking at her.  He saw her start for a moment as she recognized him, and her eyes swept him over with a half incredulous, half startled expression.  She drew a little breath.  And then Andrew saw her suddenly and instinctively stiffen.  She looked him in the face and bowed very slightly, without the vestige of a smile.

“How do you do, Mr. De la Borne?” she said as she passed on, without taking the slightest notice of the hand, which, forgetting where he was, he had half extended towards her.

Andrew went on into the ballroom, found his partner, and danced with her.  As soon as he could he made his adieux and hurried off to the cloakroom.  His coat was already upon his arm when Cecil discovered him.

“What are you bolting off for, old man?” he asked.

“I’ve had enough,” Andrew answered.  “I can’t stand the atmosphere, and I hate dancing, as you know.  See you to-morrow, Cecil.  I want to have a talk with you.  I am going away for a few weeks.”