"You really dance beautifully," he said. "So if your only experience has been dancing-lessons, as you say, you have certainly profited by them. But you should dance with Rex." "Does he dance so well?" asked the girl, with interest. "Splendidly: his worst enemy can't deny _that_," answered Robin with emphasis. "Who is his worst enemy? I shouldn't have thought he had any," said Imogen, half thoughtlessly, but with a spice of curiosity too. Robin glanced round the room, but suddenly checked himself. "No," he said, "I won't make mischief. Never mind, Miss Wentworth; it's a shame to spoil a jolly good dance by talking of disagreeable things. Shall we have another turn?" His spirits seemed to rise as the dance went on, and so did Imogen's. Truth to tell, she had never enjoyed herself so much in her life. Robin was really much nearer her in every way than his elder brother. For kind as Major Winchester was to her, Imogen was conscious of a certain strain in talking to him, and her pleasure in his society was largely composed of gratified vanity at the attentions of a man of his age and position; vanity only too cleverly and steadily fed by the two conspirators--directly by Beatrix, with her irresistible appearance of candour and _bonhommie_; more astutely by Miss Forsyth's remarks to Mrs Wentworth all of which sooner or later were sure to find their way to the girl herself. The first dance had become the second, before the two happy young people separated. Just as the latter was coming to a close, Imogen caught sight of Major Winchester dancing with Florence. Her face clouded. "Why," she said, "I thought your brother was reading his letters. He promised _me_ his first dance." "Never mind," said Robin. "It's a pleasure to see those two dancing together; they're worth watching, I assure you. And how could Rex dance with you, when you were already dancing?" "He should have come and asked me. I only danced with you to--to-- because he was busy," said Imogen, bluntly, and with evident pique. "Thank you, Miss Wentworth," Robin replied. He could not help laughing a little. "It will be all right after this dance, I have no doubt," he went on. But he looked at her as he spoke with the same expression of inquiry, almost concern, in his eyes, which she had before been conscious of without understanding it. He was not offended, however; his tone was as hearty, his whole bearing as kindly as before. "He is _very_ nice," thought Imogen, "and--I don't think he's quite as clever and grand as his brother;" and in the reflection there was a certain unacknowledged sensation of relief. But the sight of Florence and Major Winchester, who just then came in view, brought the cloud back to her face. "Don't they dance splendidly?" said Robin. "You see they've been used to each other's paces for so long--ever since Florry grew up." "Yea, that is a good while ago," said Imogen, with a faint touch of spite.