[The Danger Mark by Robert W. Chambers]@TWC D-Link bookThe Danger Mark CHAPTER III 21/55
Dysart noticed it in her nervous laughter; in a slight exaggeration of gesture with fan and flowers; in the quick movement of her restless little head, as though it were incumbent upon her to give to every man confronting her his own particular modicum of attention--which was not like a debutante, either; and Dysart realised that she was getting on. So he sauntered up, breaking through the circle, and reminded Geraldine of a dance she had not promised him. She knew she had not promised, but she was quite ready to give it--had already opened her lips to assent--when a young man, passing, swung around abruptly as though to speak to her, hesitating as Geraldine's glance encountered his without recognition. But, as he started to move on, she suddenly knew him; and at the same moment Kathleen's admonition rang in her ears.
Her own voice drowned it. "Oh, Duane!" she exclaimed, stretching out her hand across Dysart's line of advance. "You _are_ Geraldine Seagrave, are you not ?" he asked smilingly, retaining her hand in such a manner as practically to compel her to step past Dysart toward him. "Of course I am.
You might have known me had you been amiable enough to appear at my coming out." He laughed easily, still retaining her hand and looking down at her from his inch or two of advantage.
Then he casually inspected Dysart, who, not at all pleased, returned his gaze with a careless unconcern verging on offence.
Few men cared for Dysart on first inspection--or on later acquaintance; Mallett was no exception. Geraldine said, with smiling constraint: "It has been so very jolly to see you again." And withdrew her hand, adding: "I hope--some time----" "Won't you let me talk to you now for a moment or two? You are not going to dismiss me with that sort of come-back--after all these years--are you ?" He seemed so serious about it that the girl coloured up. "I--that is, Mr.Dysart was going to--to--" She turned and looked at Dysart, who remained planted where she had left him, exceedingly wroth at experiencing the sort of casual treatment he had so often meted out to others.
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