Abel Newt, conscious master of the dance and chief of brilliant youth, waltzed with an air of delicate deference toward his partner, and, gay defiance toward the rest of the world.
The performance was so novel and so well executed that the ball instantly became a spectacle of which Abel and Mrs.Van Kraut were the central figures.

The crowd pressed around them, and Abel gently pushed them back in his fluctuating circles.

Short ladies in the back-ground stood upon chairs for a moment to get a better view; while Mrs.Dagon and Mrs.Orry, whom no dexterous waltzer would ever clasp in the dizzy whirl, spattered their neighborhood with epithets of contempt and indignation, thanking Heaven that in their day things had not quite come to such a pass as that.

Colonel Burr himself, my dears, never dared to touch more than the tips of his partner's fingers in the contra-dance.
Hope Wayne had not met Abel Newt since they had parted after the runaway at Delafield, except in his mother's conservatory, and when she was stepping from the carriage.

In the mean while she had been learning every thing at once.
As her eyes fell upon him now she remembered that day upon the lawn at Pinewood, when he stood suddenly beside her, casting a shadow upon the page she was reading.