And then--what?
Amy Waring certainly did not know, although Lawrence Newt's eyes seemed to ask hers the question.
Hope heard the music, and her heart beat time.

As she saw Abel and remembered the days that were no more, for a moment her cheek flushed--not tumultuously, but gently--and Lawrence Newt and the painter remarked it.

The emotion passed, almost imperceptibly, and her eyes followed the dancers calmly, with only a little ache in the heart--with only a vague feeling that she had lived a long, long time.
Abel Newt had not lost Hope Wayne from his attention for a single moment during the evening; and before the interest in the dance was palled, before people had begun to buzz again and turn away, while Mrs.Van Kraut and he were still the spectacle upon which all eyes were directed, he suddenly whirled his partner toward the spot where Hope Wayne and her friends were standing, and stopped.
It was no more necessary for Mrs.Van Kraut to fan herself than if she had been a marble statue.

But it is proper to fan one's self when one has done dancing--so she waved the fan.

Besides, it was a Van Kraut heir-loom.