Happy
marriages, men say, are made in heaven, and I believe it. Most
marriages are fairly happy, in spite of Sir Cresswell Cresswell; and
yet how little care is taken on earth towards such a result!--"I hope
my mother is using you well?" said Lord Lufton to Griselda, as they
were standing together in a doorway between the dances.
"Oh, yes: she is very kind."
"You have been rash to trust yourself in the hands of so very staid
and demure a person. And, indeed, you owe your presence here at Mrs.
Harold Smith's first Cabinet ball altogether to me. I don't know
whether you are aware of that."
"Oh, yes: Lady Lufton told me."
"And are you grateful or otherwise? Have I done you an injury or a
benefit? Which do you find best, sitting with a novel in the corner
of a sofa in Bruton Street, or pretending to dance polkas here with
Lord Dumbello?"
"I don't know what you mean. I haven't stood up with Lord Dumbello
all the evening. We were going to dance a quadrille, but we didn't."
"Exactly; just what I say;--pretending to do it. Even that's a good
deal for Lord Dumbello; isn't it?" And then Lord Lufton, not being a
pretender himself, put his arm round her waist, and away they went up
and down the room, and across and about, with an energy which showed
that what Griselda lacked in her tongue she made up with her feet.
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