He wondered.

He was deeply impressed.
"Berenice," observed Mrs.Carter, when in an intermission she came forward to where Cowperwood and she were sitting in the moonlight discussing New York and Kentucky social life, "haven't you saved one dance for Mr.Cowperwood ?" Cowperwood, with a momentary feeling of resentment, protested that he did not care to dance any more.

Mrs.Carter, he observed to himself, was a fool.
"I believe," said her daughter, with a languid air, "that I am full up.
I could break one engagement, though, somewhere." "Not for me, though, please," pleaded Cowperwood.

"I don't care to dance any more, thank you." He almost hated her at the moment for a chilly cat.

And yet he did not.
"Why, Bevy, how you talk! I think you are acting very badly this evening." "Please, please," pleaded Cowperwood, quite sharply.