Then off they went again, and Emily was very happy. He could at least dance well, and there could be no reason why she should not enjoy his dancing well since he had been considered to be white enough to be asked to the ball. But with George there was present at every turn and twist of the dance an idea that he was there for other work than that. He was tracking a head of game after which there would be many hunters. He had his advantages, and so would they have theirs. One of his was this,--that he had her there with him now, and he must use it. She would not fall into his mouth merely by being whirled round the room pleasantly. At last she was still, and consented to take a walk with him out of the room, somewhere out amidst the crowd, on the staircase if possible, so as to get a breath of fresh air. Of course he soon had her jammed into a corner out of which there was no immediate mode of escape. "We shall never get away again," she said, laughing. Had she wanted to get away her tone and manner would have been very different. "I wonder whether you feel yourself to be the same sort of person here that you are at Humblethwaite," he said. "Exactly the same." "To me you seem to be so different." "In what way?" "I don't think you are half so nice." "How very unkind!" Of course she was flattered. Of all flattery praise is the coarsest and least efficacious. When you would flatter a man, talk to him about himself, and criticise him, pulling him to pieces by comparison of some small present fault with his past conduct;--and the rule holds the same with a woman. To tell her that she looks well is feeble work; but complain to her wofully that there is something wanting at the present moment, something lacking from the usual high standard, some temporary loss of beauty, and your solicitude will prevail with her. "And in what am I not nice? I am sure I'm trying to be as nice as I know how." "Down at Humblethwaite you are simply yourself,--Emily Hotspur." "And what am I here?" "That formidable thing,--a success. Don't you feel yourself that you are lifted a little off your legs?" "Not a bit;--not an inch. Why should I?" "I fail to make you understand quite what I mean. Don't you feel that with all these princes and potentates you are forced to be something else than your natural self? Don't you know that you have to put on a special manner, and to talk in a special way? Does not the champagne fly to your head, more or less?" "Of course, the princes and potentates are not the same as old Mrs. Crutchley, if you mean that." "I am not blaming you, you know, only I cannot help being very anxious; and I found you so perfect at Humblethwaite that I cannot say that I like any change. You know I am to come to Humblethwaite again?" "Of course you are." "You go down next month, I believe?" "Papa talks of going to Scarrowby for a few weeks. He always does every year, and it is so dull. Did you ever see Scarrowby?" "Never."