"I dined at the Carlton with Bellairs and some men from Woolwich and we had a box at the Empire to see the new ballet.
Jolly good it was, too.

Will you come one night, if I get up a party ?" "Oh, perhaps!" she answered.

"Come and dance." They passed into the great ballroom, the finest in London, brilliant with its magnificent decorations of real flowers, its crowd of uniformed men and beautiful women, its soft yet ever-present throbbing of wonderful music.

At the further end of the room, on a slightly raised dais, still receiving her guests, stood the Duchess of Devenham.
Penelope gave a little start as they saw who was bowing over her hand.
"The Prince!" she exclaimed.
Sir Charles whispered something a little under his breath.
"I wonder," she remarked with apparent irrelevance, "whether he dances." "Shall I go and find out for you ?" Sir Charles asked.
She had suddenly grown absent.

She had the air of scarcely hearing what he said.
"Let us stop," she said.