"And I think so too, therefore on that point we shall not quarrel. But tell me, how did you like the ball altogether?... Did it please you?... Were you amused?... Shall you be longing to go to another?" "Let me answer your last question first.... I hope _never, never, never_ again to go to a ball with my aunt Barnaby.... But had it not been for the pain, the shame, the agony she caused me, I should have liked it very much indeed ... particularly the tea-time, Mary.... How pleasant it was before she came with that horrid, horrid man! Shall you ever forget the sight as they came up the room towards us?... Oh! how he looked at her!" Agnes shuddered, and pressed her hands to her eyes, as if to shut out an object that she still saw. "It was tremendous," replied her friend: "but don't worry yourself by thinking Mr. Stephenson looked at her just then, for he really did not. You know he was sitting at the corner of the table by me, and his back was turned to her, thank heaven!... But I will tell you who did look at her, if Stephenson did not ... that magnificent-looking Colonel stared as if he had seen an apparition; but I did not mind that half so much, nor you either, I suppose.... An old soldier like him must be used to such a variety of quizzes, that nobody, I imagine, can appear so preposterous to him as they might do to his young friend.... By the by, I think he is a very fine-looking man for his age; don't you?" "Who?" said Agnes innocently. "Why, Colonel Hubert.... His sister, who is just married to Sir Edward Stephenson, is nearly twenty years younger than he is, they say." "Twenty years?" said Agnes. "Yes.... Must it not be strange to see them together as brother and sister?... he must seem so much more like her father." "Her father!" said Agnes. "Yes, I should think so. But you do not talk half as much about the ball as I expected, Agnes: I think you were disappointed, and yet I do not know how that could be. You dance beautifully, and seem very fond of it; you had the best partners in the room, danced every dance, and were declared on all sides to be the _belle par excellence_,... and yet you do not seem to have enjoyed it." "Oh! I did enjoy it all the time that she was out of the room playing cards; I enjoyed it very, _very_ much indeed ... so much that I am surprised at myself to feel how soon all my painful shyness was forgotten.... But ... after all, Mary, though you call her _your_ aunt Barnaby, as if to comfort me by sharing my sufferings, she is not really your aunt, and still less is she your sole protector ... still less is she the being on whom you depend for your daily bread. Alas! my dear Mary, is there not more cause for surprise in my having enjoyed the ball so much, than in my not having enjoyed it more?"