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"I'm not sure about number three. I think that's a mistake. You might have that if you wish."
She was falsifying.
"It doesn't matter so much about him, does it?"
His cheeks flushed a little as he said this.
"No."
Her own flamed.
"Well, I'll see where you are when it's called. You're darling. I'm afraid of you." He shot a level,
interpretive glance into her eyes, then left. Aileen's bosom heaved. It was hard to breathe
sometimes in this warm air.
While he was dancing first with Mrs. Cowperwood and later with Mrs. Seneca Davis, and still
later with Mrs. Martyn Walker, Cowperwood had occasion to look at Aileen often, and each time
that he did so there swept over him a sense of great vigor there, of beautiful if raw, dynamic
energy that to him was irresistible and especially so to-night. She was so young. She was
beautiful, this girl, and in spite of his wife's repeated derogatory comments he felt that she was
nearer to his clear, aggressive, unblinking attitude than any one whom he had yet seen in the
form of woman. She was unsophisticated, in a way, that was plain, and yet in another way it
would take so little to make her understand so much. Largeness was the sense he had of
her--not physically, though she was nearly as tall as himself--but emotionally. She seemed so
intensely alive. She passed close to him a number of times, her eyes wide and smiling, her lips
parted, her teeth agleam, and he felt a stirring of sympathy and companionship for her which he
had not previously experienced. She was lovely, all of her-- delightful.
"I'm wondering if that dance is open now," he said to her as he drew near toward the beginning
of the third set. She was seated with her latest admirer in a far corner of the general living-room,
a clear floor now waxed to perfection. A few palms here and there made embrasured parapets
of green. "I hope you'll excuse me," he added, deferentially, to her companion.
"Surely," the latter replied, rising.
"Yes, indeed," she replied. "And you'd better stay here with me. It's going to begin soon. You
won't mind?" she added, giving her companion a radiant smile.
"Not at all. I've had a lovely waltz." He strolled off.
Cowperwood sat down. "That's young Ledoux, isn't it? I thought so. I saw you dancing. You like
it, don't you?"
"I'm crazy about it."
"Well, I can't say that myself. It's fascinating, though. Your partner makes such a difference.
Mrs. Cowperwood doesn't like it as much as I do."
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