Her head was small, and, poised as it was upon a slender throat, looked almost overweighted by the wealth of her dark hair.

Her features were finely chiselled from the nose to the oval of her chin, and the red bow of her lips; and, with all her fragility, a delicate colour in her cheeks spoke of health.
"You have come!" she said.
Linforth took her little white-gloved hand in his.
"You knew I should," he answered.
"Yes, I knew that.

But I didn't know that I should have to wait," she replied reproachfully.

"I was here, in this corner, at the moment." "I couldn't catch an earlier train.

I only got your telegram saying you would be at the dance late in the afternoon." "I did not know that I should be coming until this morning," she said.
"Then it was very kind of you to send the telegram at all." "Yes, it was," said Violet Oliver simply, and Linforth laughed.
"Shall we dance ?" he asked.
Mrs.Oliver nodded.
"Round the room as far as the door.