eBooks Base 2000

Both those next dances--they are the last, I'm afraid, too,
aren't they?--belong to Colonel Carteret."
"The deuce they do!" Ditton exploded, turning scarlet. With a cocked eye
and a jaunty movement of the head Mr. Titherage shot out his right shirt
cuff, and pointed a stout forefinger at certain hieroglyphics inscribed
on its glossy surface.
"Your name, Miss Verity, and written with an indelible pencil, to the
permanent embellishment of my best party-going linen and witness to your
infidelity."
"I can only repeat I am dreadfully sorry," Damaris said, with a becoming
air of concern, "if the confusion has arisen through my fault. But"--
She appealed to Carteret.
"They always were your dances, weren't they?"
"Without doubt," he affirmed.
Amusedly and very kindly he smiled upon the angry boy and portly young
man, although the beat of his pulse was accelerated and his throat felt
queerly dry.
"I am sure you understand how impossible it is for me to release Miss
Verity from her promise," he said courteously.


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