The zest was that of remembrance; the sword-play of words was above the head of a younger generation given to slang and music-hall airs; and so these two had little bouts for their own edification, and enjoyed the glitter of it vastly.
Sir John's face relaxed into the only repose he ever allowed it; for he had a habit of twitching and moving his lips such as some old men have.
And occasionally, in an access of further senility, he fumbled with his fingers at his mouth.

He was clean shaven, and even in his old age he was handsome beyond other men--standing an upright six feet two.
The object of his attention was the belle of that ball, Miss Millicent Chyne, who was hemmed into a corner by a group of eager dancers anxious to insert their names in some corner of her card.

She was the fashion at that time.

And she probably did not know that at least half of the men crowded round because the other half were there.

Nothing succeeds like the success that knows how to draw a crowd.
She received the ovation self-possessedly enough, but without that hauteur affected by belles of balls--in books.