.
Only the waiter different--hollow-cheeked, patient, dark of eye. He,
too, should be well tipped! And that poor, over-hatted lady, eating
her frugal meal--to her, at all events, a look of kindness. For all
desperate creatures he must feel, this desperate night! And suddenly he
thought of Oliver. Another desperate one! What should he say to Oliver
at this dance--he, aged forty-seven, coming there without his wife!
Some imbecility, such as: 'Watching the human form divine in motion,'
'Catching sidelights on Nell for the statuette'--some cant; it did not
matter! The wine was drawn, and he must drink!

It was still early when he left the restaurant--a dry night, very calm,
not cold. When had he danced last? With Olive Cramier, before he knew he
loved her. Well, THAT memory could not be broken, for he would not dance
to-night! Just watch, sit with the girl a few minutes, feel her hand
cling to his, see her eyes turned back to him; and--come away! And
then--the future! For the wine was drawn! The leaf of a plane-tree,
fluttering down, caught on his sleeve. Autumn would soon be gone, and
after Autumn--only Winter! She would have done with him long before he
came to Winter. Nature would see to it that Youth called for her, and
carried her away. Nature in her courses! But just to cheat Nature for a
little while! To cheat Nature--what greater happiness!

Here was the place with red-striped awning, carriages driving away,
loiterers watching. He turned in with a beating heart. Was he before
her? How would she come to this first dance? With Oliver alone? Or
had some chaperon been found? To have come because she--this child so
lovely, born 'outside'--might have need of chaperonage, would have been
some comfort to dignity, so wistful, so lost as his. But, alas! he knew
he was only there because he could not keep away!

Already they were dancing in the hall upstairs; but not she, yet; and
he stood leaning against the wall where she must pass. Lonely and out of
place he felt; as if everyone must know why he was there. People stared,
and he heard a girl ask: "Who's that against the wall with the hair and
dark moustache?"--and her partner murmuring his answer, and her voice
again: "Yes, he looks as if he were seeing sand and lions." For whom,
then, did they take him? Thank heaven! They were all the usual sort.
There would be no one that he knew. Suppose Johnny Dromore himself came
with Nell! He was to be back on Saturday! What could he