Millicent Chyne saw the glance and liked it.

It was different from the others, quite devoid of criticism, rather simple and full of honest admiration.

She was so beautiful that she could hardly be expected to be unaware of the fact.

She had merely to make comparisons, to look in the mirror and see that her hair was fairer and softer, that her complexion was more delicately perfect, that her slight, rounded figure was more graceful than any around her.

Added to this, she knew that she had more to say than other girls--a larger stock of those little frivolous, advice-seeking, aid-demanding nothings than her compeers seemed to possess.
She knew that in saying them she could look brighter and prettier and more intelligent than her competitors.
"Yes," she said, "let us dance by all means." Here also she knew her own proficiency, and in a few seconds she found that her partner was worthy of her skill.
"Where have you been ?" she asked presently.