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"The two last waltzes," I murmured, when parting with her. She nodded. I roamed the Gunton-Cresswells's rooms awaiting them. She danced those two last waltzes with strangers. The thing was utterly beyond me at the time. Looking back, I am still amazed to what lengths deliberate coquetry can go. She actually took pains to elude me, and gave those waltzes to strangers.
"I proposed to your cousin at the Gunton-Cresswells's dance tonight, and she accepted me." The news had a surprising effect on Julian. First he blinked. Then he craned his head forward in the manner of a deaf man listening with difficulty. Then he left the room without a word. He had not been gone two minutes when there were three short, sharp taps at my window. Julian returned? Impossible.
I collected my evening clothes from a man of the name of Attenborough, whom I employ to take care of them when they are not likely to be wanted; found a white shirt, which looked presentable after a little pruning of the cuffs with a razor; and drove to the Gunton-Cresswells's in time for dinner. There was a certain atmosphere of unrest about the house.
Hers may have been the thoughts that lie too deep for tears. At any rate, she did not weep. Instead, she drew from her reticule the fragmentary writings of an early Portuguese author. These she perused during the present and succeeding entr'actes. Pressing Margaret's hand, I walked round to the Gunton-Cresswells's box to see what effect the act had had on them.
I took a new attitude towards life at about a quarter to three on the morning after the Gunton-Cresswells's dance. I had waited for James in his rooms. He had been to the dance. Examine me for a moment as I wait there. I had been James' friend for more than two years and a half. I had watched his career from the start. I knew him before he had located exactly the short cut to Fortune.
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