Pinckney flushed.

"I don't know if you _want_ to quarrel with me," said he, "if you do, say
so at once."

"Not a bit," she replied, "you know I never quarrel with any one, it's bad
form for one thing and it is waste of energy for another."

A man came up to claim her for the next dance and she went off with him,
leaving Pinckney upset and astonished at her manner and conduct.

It was their first quarrel, the first result of their engagement. Frances
had seemed all laziness and honey up to this; like many another woman she
began to show her real nature now that Pinckney was secured.

But it was not an ordinary lovers' quarrel; her anger had less to do with
Richard Pinckney than with Phyl. Her hatred of Phyl, big as a baobab tree,
covered with its shadow Vernons, Miss Pinckney, and Richard.

He was part of the business of her dethronement.

Richard wandered off to where Maria Pinckney was seated watching the
dancers.

"Why aren't you dancing?" asked she.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied. "I'm not keen on it and there are loads of
men."

Miss Pinckney had watched him talking to Frances Rhett and she had drawn
her own deductions, but she said nothing. He sat down beside her. He had
been wanting to tell her of his engagement for a long time past, but had
put it off and put it off, waiting for the psychological moment. Maria
Pinckney was a very difficult person to fit into a psychological moment.

"I want to tell you something," said he. "I'm engaged to Frances Rhett."

"Engaged to be married to her?"

"Yes."

Miss Pinckney was dumb.

What she had always dreaded had come to pass, then.

"You don't congratulate me?"

"No," she replied. "I don't."

Then, all of a sudden, she turned on him.

"Congratulate you! If I saw you drowning in the harbour, would you expect
me to stand at the Battery waving my hand to you and congratulating you?
No, I don't congratulate you. You had the chance of being happy with the
most beautiful girl in the world, and the best, and you've thrown it away
to pick up with _that_ woman. Phyl would have married you, I know it, she
would have made you happy, I know it, for I know her and I know you. Now
it's all spoiled."

He rose to his feet. It was the first time in his life that he had seen
Maria Pinckney really put out.

"I'll talk to you again about it," said he. Then he moved away.

He had the pleasure of watching Frances dancing the next waltz with Silas
Grangerson, and Si