“What a curious book for you to get hold of! I should have thought you would have preferred ‘The Coral Island,’ or ‘Midshipman Easy.’ Those are the kind of books _my_ brothers like. That is one of my brothers there, that fat ugly boy with red hair, dancing with the little girl in white.” I inspected the brother. “‘Anna Karénine’ is a fine book,” I answered. “Why didn’t she ask for the divorce at once, do you think? I mean as soon as she went away with Wronsky?” Out of the tail of my eye I saw the young man who had before interfered between us again approaching. She saw him too, and immediately called out, “Bertie, we’re discussing ‘Anna Karénine.’ I’m sure you haven’t read it.” We didn’t really discuss it, for she changed the subject directly afterwards, without even having answered my question, and Bertie, who I heard later was a football player of great renown, asked me if my school was going to win the cup this year. The first square dance “Annie” insisted on my dancing with her, and, so far as I could judge, I shuffled through it all right. After that she left me to my own resources, and I returned to Bertie. There was something between Bertie and her, I believed. I was sure he had only come because she had told him she was going to be there to help to look after the kids. Bertie had danced all the dances up to this one, but he now told me that if he didn’t have a smoke he should die, and asked me to come to the billiard-room with him. We played a hundred up, Bertie going two to my one, but I beat him, for I had often knocked the balls about on the table at Derryaghy, though there was rarely anybody to have a game with. Bertie said I should make a good player if I practised, and he showed me a lot of strokes. He was very jolly and I liked him. Presently he asked me if I didn’t want some supper, and we went downstairs. Refreshments had been going on all the evening, but the room happened to be empty when we came in. There was a great deal of lemonade and stuff, but Bertie secured some champagne, and by the time I had had two glasses I began to feel extremely comfortable and jolly. Bertie’s jokes were twice as good as they had been before, and my own conversation suddenly acquired an interest and brilliancy that made me want to talk as much as possible. After my third glass Bertie suggested I should try Apollinaris, but I refused. The room had somehow by this time got full of people. Bertie told me to keep quiet, but just then he was called away, and I was left to finish my supper alone. CHAPTER XXVII