He still cleaves to his cook; dancing with her is a _tour de force_, on which he piques himself.

Mrs.Huntley and Algy are already flying down the room in an active, tender embrace.
I have been asked as long ago as before dinner by Mr.Musgrave.I was rather surprised and annoyed at his inviting _me_ instead of Barbara; but as, with this exception, his conduct has been unequivocally demonstrative, I console myself with the notion that he looks upon me as the necessary pill to which Barbara will be the subsequent jam.
The first bars of the valse are playing when Bobby comes bustling up.
Healthy jollity and open mirth are written all over his dear, fat face.
"Come along, Nancy! let us have _one_ more scamper before we die!" "I am engaged to Mr.Musgrave," reply I, with a graceless and discontented curl of lip, and raising of nose.
"All right!" says Bobby, philosophically, walking away; "I am sure I do not mind, only I had a fancy for having _one_ more spin with you." "So you shall!" cry I, impulsively, with a sharp thought of Hong-Kong, running after him, and putting his solid right arm round my waist.
Away we go in mad haste.

Like most sailors, Bobby dances well.

I am nothing very wonderful, but I suit _him_.

In many musicless waltzings of winter evenings, down the lobby at home, we have learned to fit each other's step exactly.