But, hang it, let's get on.' So, in they walked by the barrack-yard, lighted up now with a splendid red blaze of torches, and with different emotions, entered the already crowded ball-room.
Devereux looked round the room, among nodding plumes and flashing brilliants, and smirking old bucks, and simpering young ones, amidst the buzz of two or three hundred voices, and the thunder and braying of the band.

There were scores of pretty faces there--blondes and brunettes--blue eyes and brown--and more spirit and animation, and, I think, more grace too, in dance and talk, than the phlegmatic affectation of modern days allows; and there were some bright eyes that, not seeming to look, yet recognised, with a little thrill at the heart, and a brighter flush, the brilliant, proud Devereux--so handsome, so impulsive, so unfathomable--with his gipsy tint, and great enthusiastic eyes, and strange melancholy, sub-acid smile.

But to him the room was lifeless, and the hour was dull, and the music but a noise and a jingle.
'I knew quite well she wasn't here, and she never cared for me, and I--why should I trouble my head about her?
She makes her cold an excuse.
Well, maybe yet she'll wish to see Dick Devereux, and I far away.

No matter.

They've heard slanders of me, and believe them.