"If my hostess is
used up to-night, there'll be no hostess for me to-morrow."
Kitty looked at them all, silent--her head bending forward, a curious
mechant look in the eyes that shone beneath the slightly frowning
brows. Meanwhile, by her previous order, a footman had brought out two
silver lamps and placed them on a small table a little way behind her.
Whether it was from some instinctive sense of the beauty of the small
figure in the slender, floating dress under the deep blue of the night
sky and amid the romantic shadows and lights of the terrace--or from
some divination of things significant and hidden--it would be hard to
say; but the group of spectators had fallen back a little from Kitty, so
that she stood alone, a picture lit from the left by the lamps just
brought in.
The Dean looked at her--troubled by her wild aspect and the evident
conflict between her and Ashe. Then an idea flashed into his mind,
filled always, like that of an innocent child, with the images of poetry
and romance.
"One moment!" he said, raising his hand. "Lady Kitty, you spoil us!
After amusing us all day, now you would dance for us all night.
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