The 'Mind the Paint' Girl - BestLightNovel.com
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BLAND.
[_To NITA._] Nita.
NITA.
No; this is with Douglas.
BLAND.
Nothing o' the sort.
NITA.
[_Referring to her programme._] You're correct; my mistake.
DE CASTRO.
[_Coming to GABRIELLE who is talking to SYBIL._] Gabth.
GABRIELLE.
[_Dolefully._] Oh, you again!
DE CASTRO.
[_Mortified._] Afraid tho.
[_The sound of distant music is again heard, and there is a great deal of bustle as the men claim their partners. TAVISH goes to EVANGELINE, GRIMWOOD to, FLO, PALK and GLYNN to OLGA and SYBIL, and gradually the a.s.semblage melts away._
FULKERSON.
[_Coming to JIMMIE, who is conning her programme, and standing before her-- reading from his programme._] "_Vawlse. Cry dee cure._"
JIMMIE.
[_With withering accuracy._] "_Valse. Cri de coeur._"
FULKERSON.
[_Wagging his head._] Very likely. Come along, Jimmie.
JIMMIE.
[_Rising and shaking herself out._] Jane to you, _if_ you please.
FULKERSON.
Tos.h.!.+
JIMMIE.
I was christened Jane, _Herbert_.
FULKERSON.
Well, I wasn't at the christening, see.
JIMMIE.
No; but if you are not more careful of those feet of yours while you're waltzing, you _will_ be at my funeral.
[_She takes his arm and they go out at the door on the left. SMYTHE, STIDULPH, COOLING, and s.h.i.+RLEY follow, talking together. All the couples have now disappeared except VON RETTENMAYER and ENID and FARNCOMBE and LILY. VON RETTENMAYER and ENID are at the counter, where LUIGI is giving VON RETTENMAYER a gla.s.s of champagne, and the waiters are busying themselves in collecting the soiled gla.s.ses, plates, etc., which have been left upon the mantel-piece and chairs. The bearded waiter comes to LILY and she hands him her plate._
FARNCOMBE.
[_To LILY._] Shall we go down?
[_She rises, leaving her bouquet upon the settee, and is about to put her arm through FARNCOMBE'S when she checks herself and looks at her programme._
LILY.
[_Frowning._] Tsss!
FARNCOMBE.
Eh?
LILY.
[_In a low voice._] One, two, three, four--! Why, this-- this is our fifth dance!
FARNCOMBE.
[_Softly._] Yes.
LILY.
Five out of eight!
FARNCOMBE.
[_Looking at his programme._] And 10, 12, and 14 are mine, too.
LILY.
[_With a movement of her shoulders, accepting his arm._] How unfair!
FARNCOMBE.
