I found time to watch Jeff, even while I was surrounded by an eager group of questioners--as we all were--and saw how his worshipping eyes, his grave courtesy, pleased and drew some of them; while others, rather stronger spirits they looked to be, drew away from his group to Terry's or mine.
I watched Terry with special interest, knowing how he had longed for this time, and how irresistible he had always been at home.

And I could see, just in snatches, of course, how his suave and masterful approach seemed to irritate them; his too-intimate glances were vaguely resented, his compliments puzzled and annoyed.

Sometimes a girl would flush, not with drooped eyelids and inviting timidity, but with anger and a quick lift of the head.

Girl after girl turned on her heel and left him, till he had but a small ring of questioners, and they, visibly, were the least "girlish" of the lot.
I saw him looking pleased at first, as if he thought he was making a strong impression; but, finally, casting a look at Jeff, or me, he seemed less pleased--and less.
As for me, I was most agreeably surprised.

At home I never was "popular." I had my girl friends, good ones, but they were friends--nothing else.