Usually she dropped some tears on her pillow after a night's gaiety.
At Bath, at Taunton, at Axcester, it had always been the same, and with time she had learnt to set her hopes low and steel her heart early to their inevitable disappointment.

So tonight she took her seat against the wall and watched while the first three _contre-danses_ went by without bringing her a partner.

For the fourth--the "Soldier's joy"-- she was claimed by an awkward schoolboy, home for the holidays; whether out of duty or obeying the law of Nature by which shy youths are attracted to middle-aged partners, she could not tell, nor did she ask herself, but danced the dance and enjoyed it more than her cavalier was ever likely to guess.

Such a chance had, before now, been looked back upon as the one bright spot in a long evening's experience.
Dorothea loved all schoolboys for the kindness shown to her by these few.
She went back to her seat, hard by a group to which Endymion was discoursing at large.

Endymion's was a mellow voice, of rich compass, and he had a knack of compelling the attention of all persons within range.