He was genuinely fond of her. When she touched her hair before the little white-draped glass he discreetly turned his back, almost as if he wished to reassure Amory about any stray jest she might have heard about the aquarium corner; and then after a moment he punctiliously gave Amory his arm. They returned to the drawing-room. Perhaps Miss Addams herself had become a little anxious about her promised surprise, and had decided to make sure of something else in case it failed her, for they had begun to dance. Every boarder was there, including M. Criqui, the Frenchman; and, ranged inseparably against the wall, were the three Indians whose faces resembled olives with white moving eyes. Mats and rugs had been pushed back to the walls; M. Criqui "turned" for Mrs. Deschamps; Mr. Edmondson was waltzing with pretty Miss Crebbin, the typist; and Mr. Sandys danced with Miss Swan, of the Preparatory School near the tram terminus. The window looking on to the back garden was open; the screen of pock-marked coloured glass had been drawn in front of the fire; and the pictures on the walls moved slightly in the draughts. Mr. Geake had placed himself on point-duty near the folding-doors, and was shepherding couples past the awkward place; and from a group of men who conspired out on the landing came sudden bursts of laughter from time to time. Mr. Massey, the hero of the occasion, left Amory, and moved here and there, patting backs, touching elbows, and ever and anon beaming with mild delight about him and rubbing his hands. The waltz ended, and another began; and Mr. Edmondson, who seemed to have shaken off his seriousness and to have lapsed into youth again, came up to Amory and asked her whether he might have the pleasure. Amory, resolved to go through it now that she was here, placed her hand on his arm. "Might as well have one of these while there's any left," he said genially, snatching a paper fan from the mantelpiece as they passed; "I wonder what those blighters are up to!" He indicated the group that conspired near the door.... "You ain't interested in football, I s'pose? I'm going to the Final at the Palace on Saturday--special leave, what oh!--Donkins'll take my place--and it won't half be a squeeze, I give you _my_ word! Funny place to go for a squeeze, eh, Miss Amory?" Mr. Edmondson was now quite the Mr. Edmondson of the green waistcoat, not to be got at by girls if he knew it. And still the inscrutable Miss Addams, with her eye drifting a little more frequently towards the door, gave no sign. "Here, I say, come orf it!" Mr. Edmondson grinned as he and Amory passed M. Criqui and Mrs. Deschamps for the fourth time. They were talking French. "No taking advantage, Criqui!... I don't call that playing the game," he continued to Amory. "But you talk French, of course?" "A little," said Amory.