I could almost guess what she whispered to the former by the motion of her lips.
"Monsieur Andre will, I am sure, spare Madame for one gallop," said Dalrymple, with that kind of courtesy which accepts no denial.

It was quite another tone, quite another manner.

It was no longer the persuasive suavity of one who is desirous only to please, but the politeness of a gentleman to au inferior.
The cloud came back upon Andre's brow, and he hesitated; but Madame Roquet interposed.
"Spare her!" she exclaimed.

"_Dame_! I should think so! She has never left his arm all day.

Here, my child, give me your shawl while you dance, and bake care not to get too warm, for the evening air is dangerous." And so Suzette took off her shawl, and Andre was silenced, and Dalrymple, in less than the half hour, was actually whirling away with his arm round little Phillis's dainty waist.
I am afraid that I proved a very indifferent _locum tenens_ for my brilliant friend, and that the good people thought me exceedingly stupid.