I thought so, too.

Now I know you.

Keep clear of _me_ and _mine_, Dysart....

And that will be about all." He left him planted against a tree and walked toward the lights once more, breathing heavily and in an ugly mood.
On the edge of the glade, just outside the lantern glow, he stood sombre, distrait, inspecting the torn lace on his sleeve, while all around him people were unmasking amid cries of surprise and shouts of laughter, and the orchestra was sounding a march, and multicoloured Bengal fires rolled in clouds from the water's edge, turning the woods to a magic forest and the people to tinted wraiths.
Behind him he heard Rosalie's voice, caressing, tormenting by turns; and, glancing around for her victim, beheld Grandcourt at heel in calflike adoration.
Kathleen's laughter swung him the other way.
"Oh, Duane," she cried, the pink of excitement in her cheeks, "isn't it all too heavenly! It looks like Paradise afire with all those rosy clouds rolling under foot.

Have you ever seen anything quite as charming ?" "It's rotten," said Duane brusquely, tearing the tattered lace free and tossing it aside.
"Wh-what!" she exclaimed.
"I say it's all rotten," he repeated, looking up at her.