Gillian and Hal took turns to play for them,
and Uncle Reginald and Fly were in equal request as partners. It was
Mysie who came to draw Dolores out of her corner, and begged her to be
her partner--'If you wouldn't very much rather not,' she said, in a
pleading, wistful, voice.
Dolores would 'very much rather not;' but she saw that Mysie would be
left out altogether if she did not consent, as Hal was playing and
Uncle Regie was dancing with Primrose. She thought of resolutions to
turn over a new leaf, and not to refuse everything so she said, 'Yes,
this once,' and it was wonderful how much freshened she felt by the gay
motion, and perhaps by Mysie's merry, good-natured eyes and caressing
hand. After that she had another turn with Gillian and one with Hal,
and even one with Fergus because, as he politely informed her, no one
else would have him for a quadrille. But, just as this was in
progress, and she could not help laughing at his ridiculous mistakes
and contempt of rules she met Uncle Reginald's eye fixed on her in
wonder 'He thinks I don't care,' thought she to herself. All her
pleasure was gone, and she moved so dejectedly that her aunt, watching
from the sofa, called her and told her she was over-tired, and sent her
to bed.
Dolores was tired, but not in the way which made it harder instead of
easier to sleep, or, rather, she slept just enough to relax her full
consciousness and hold over herself, and bring on her a misery of
terror and loneliness, and feeling of being forsaken by the whole
world.
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