Amy and her Pole distinguished themselves by equal enthusiasm but more graceful agility, and Laurie found himself involuntarily keeping time to the rhythmic rise and fall of the white slippers as they flew by as indefatigably as if winged.
When little Vladimir finally relinquished her, with assurances that he was `desolated to leave so early', she was ready to rest, and see how her recreant knight had borne his punishment.
It had been successful, for at three-and-twenty, blighted affections find a balm in friendly society, and young nerves will thrill, young blood dance, and healthy young spirits rise, when subjected to the enchantment of beauty, light, music, and motion. Laurie had a waked-up look as he rose to give her his seat, and when he hurried away to bring her some supper, she said to herself, with a satisfied smile, "Ah, I thought that would do him good!""You look like Balzac's `FEMME PEINTE PAR ELLE-NENE',"he said, as he fanned her with one hand and held her coffee cup in the other.
"My rouge won't come off." And Amy rubbed her brilliant cheek, and showed him her white glove with a sober simplicity that made him laugh outright.
"What do you call this stuff?" he asked, touching a fold of her dress that had blown over his knee.
"Illusion."
"Good name for it. It's very pretty--new thing, isn't it?""It's as old as the hills. You have seen it on dozens of girls, and you never found out that it was pretty till now?