Having announced his intention of accompanying his wife to the dance
which Mrs Henry was giving, Edward Morgan, despite a growing
disinclination for spending an evening in this way, adhered to his
purpose in much the same spirit in which a man will keep an appointment
he has made with his dentist, not compulsorily, nor because he wants to,
but because he has no definite reason to urge against keeping the
engagement.
It was a matter of indifference to Prudence whether he went or not. His
presence would not add to the general hilarity; and he would probably
want her to leave early; apart from that, it would be good for him to
look on at the harmless fun with which youth took its fill of enjoyment
in the presence of tragedy. There was something fine and inspiriting in
the gay manner in which these young people enjoyed themselves with the
dark cloud of war overshadowing their lives.
Prudence's thoughts dwelt upon these things as she entered Mrs Henry's
house with her husband, and left him at the foot of the stairs and went
up to take off her wrap. They were everywhere, these khaki-clad
figures; the sound of their voices, of their gay laughter, filled the
rooms and passages. She talked to them, when she descended, and met
their admiring glances with the quiet self-possession which
characterised her always, talked easily and pleasantly with men whom she
had never met before, to whom she had not been introduced. The uniform
was an introduction; and she was there to help them to have a good time.
Mrs Henry demanded that of her. But this lapse from the conventions
struck Edward Morgan unfavourably. He perceived disrespect in the eager
push of these unknown young men to secure a dance with his wife. And
she gave her dances readily to any one who solicited the favour, a sweet
and gracious-looking figure in a dress of white and gold, with a wreath
of gold leaves in her hair.
"Don't tell me your name," he heard one laughing voice exclaim, as its
owner scribbled something on his card. "I've written it down as Queen
of Hearts. That's what you are--to me for to-night. I want to think of
you as just that."
Mr Morgan, restraining a desire to interfere, turned abruptly and moved
away. He did not at all approve of this sort of thing. The licence
permitted by the times struck him as very objectionable. He took up a
position near the door, where he could command a view of the dancing and
be out of the way. He did not like the modern dances; they were
awkward, and lacked the dignity of the dances familiar to his youth.
"Come and open the ball with me," Mrs Henry said graciously, pausing
beside him while the band played the opening bars of a two-step.
"I'm sorry," he said stiffly; "but these rag-time airs are unfamiliar to
me."
"We can waltz to this," she said good-naturedly. "You waltz divinely.
Come on, old dear!"
She put her hand on his arm, and he found himself to his amazement
dancing with his sister-in-law and enjoying it. He had not danced for
years, not since the night when he danced in that same room with his
fiancee, who, at the finish of the evening, had asked him to release her
from her engagement. The memory of that humiliating experience was with
him when, at the finish of the dance, he found his way back to the quiet
corner near the doorway, from whence he watched Prudence come and go
with her different partners, always animated and gay and tireless in her
enjoyment. What, he wondered, would his life have been like, and hers,
had he not turned a deaf ear to her request?
He hated to see her enjoying herself thus independently of him; and he
was powerless to interfere. She would have accused him justly of
jealousy of her youth. He was jealous of her youth; he was still more
jealous of the youth of the men who surrounded her.
A late arrival, entering unobtrusively while the dancing was in full
swing, seeing Mr Morgan standing disconsolately in the doorway, came to
a halt beside him, and noting the heavy boredom of his look, was moved
to address him, though he had no particular liking for the man he
accosted, and was not sure how his advances would be received.
"Something of a crush inside, sir," he observed. "There doesn't appear
to be any room for me."
Mr Morgan turned his head and surveyed the speaker. A light of
surprised recognition flashed into his sombre eyes, and, after a slight
show of hesitation, he held out his hand.
"Steele!" he exclaimed. "The last man I expected to see. Where do you
spring from?"
Steele laughed quietly.
"The war brought me back," he said. "I arrived two days ago, and of
course came home. Mrs Henry met me yesterday outside the bank--and so
I'm here. She told me she was short of men. The shortage isn't
apparent." He stared into the densely packed room and smiled. "One
can't imagine Mrs Henry short of anything. It looks ripping."
"Beastly crush!" Edward Morgan muttered. "I hate this sort of thing."
The smile in the young man's eyes deepened, but the rest of his face was
grave. He was wondering why Mr Morgan put himself to the inconvenience
of attending an entertainment against his inclination.
"It doesn't look as though my chance of securing partners was rosy," he
remarked. "I'm horribly late."
He had not made any great effort to get there earlier. He had felt no
particular interest in the dance to which he had been so urgently and
unceremoniously bidden. But he deplored his lateness sincerely when, as
the music slowed down before finally ceasing, he caught an amazingly
unexpected vision of soft white and gold, with cheeks flushed like a
wild rose, and with wide blue eyes opened to their fullest as they
encountered his eager gaze. Prudence's eyes looked into his; and the
lights and the music and the crowd melted magically away. She was back
in the past, with the scent of _gloire de Dijon_ roses filling the air,
and one voice only breaking across immeasurable distance, and falling on
her ears like a note, lost and now recalled, the dear familiar sound of
a voice to which her heart responded and which flooded the universe with
the music of the spring.
Whether Prudence broke away from her legitimate partner, or whether it
was Steele who effected the change, she never afterwards remembered.
She was conscious at the moment only of the eager welcome in his eyes,
the surprised satisfaction of his voice speaking her name, the glad
assurance with which he took her hand and placed it on his arm and
steered her with dexterous swiftness through the crowd about the
doorway, leaving Mr Morgan staring after them in stupefied amazement,
and her late partner frowning with annoyance at the slight which bereft
him of the most sought after partner of the evening.
It all happened so quickly. Before she had recovered fully from the
first surprise of the encounter, she found herself alone with Steele in
a little room off the hall, that was all in confusion with an overflow
of furniture from the rooms which had been cleared. He drew her inside
and closed the door and stood looking down at her with a laugh in his
grey eyes.