"
It was Tommy Miss Vanderpoel was dancing with when her ladyship said
this. Tommy was her grandson and a young man of greater rank than
fortune. He was a nice, frank, heavy youth, who loved a simple county
life spent in tramping about with guns, and in friendly hobnobbing with
the neighbours, and eating great afternoon teas with people whose jokes
were easy to understand, and who were ready to laugh if you tried a joke
yourself. He liked girls, and especially he liked Jane Lithcom, but
that was a weakness his grandmother did not at all encourage, and, as he
danced with Betty Vanderpoel, he looked over her shoulder more than once
at a pair of big, unhappy blue eyes, whose owner sat against the wall.
Betty Vanderpoel herself was not thinking of Tommy. In fact, during
this brilliant evening she faced still further developments of her own
strange case. Certain new things were happening to her. When she had
entered the ballroom she had known at once who the man was who stood
before the royal guest--she had known before he bowed low and withdrew.
And her recognition had brought with it a shock of joy. For a few
moments her throat felt hot and pulsing. It was true--the things which
concerned him concerned her.
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