ld be taken. Ayala begged that there might be no
arrangements, declared that she would be quite happy to see Nina go
forth in her finery. But the Marchesa was a woman who always had her
way, and Ayala was taken to Lady Putney's dance without a suspicion
on the part of any who saw her that her ball-room apparatus was not
all that it ought to be.

Ayala when she entered the room was certainly a little bashful. When
in Rome, even in the old days at the bijou, when she did not consider
herself to be quite out, she had not been at all bashful. She had
been able to enjoy herself entirely, being very fond of dancing,
conscious that she could dance well, and always having plenty to say
for herself. But now there had settled upon her something of the
tedium, something of the silence, of Kingsbury Crescent, and she
almost felt that she would not know how to behave herself if she were
asked to stand up and dance before all Lady Putney's world. In her
first attempt she certainly was not successful. An elderly gentleman
was brought up to her,--a gentleman whom she afterwards declared to
be a hundred, and who was, in truth, over forty, and with him she
manoeuvred gently through a quadrille. He asked her two or three
questions to which she was able to answer only in monosyllables.
Then he ceased his questions, and the manoeuvres were carried on in
perfect silence. Poor Ayala did not attribute any blame to the man.
It was all because she had been six months in Kingsbury Crescent.
Of course this aged gentleman, if he wanted to dance, would have a
partner chosen for him out of Kingsbury Crescent. Conversation was
not to be expected from a gentleman who was made to stand up with
Kingsbury Crescent. Any powers of talking that had ever belonged
to herself had of course evaporated amidst the gloom of Kingsbury
Crescent. After this she was returned speedily to the wings of the
Marchesa, and during the next dance sat in undisturbed peace. Then
suddenly, when the Marchesa had for a moment left her, and when Nina
had just been taken away to join a set, she saw the man of silence
coming to her from a distance, with an evident intention of asking
her to stand up again. It was in his eye, in his toe, as he came
bowing forward. He had evidently learned to suppose that they two
outcasts might lessen their miseries by joining them together. She
was to dance with him because no one else would ask her! She had
plucked up her spirit and resolved that, d