"I think it's because dear Mary
looks so charming to-night, Agnes," she ventured in her mouselike way.
Then moved up to make room for Archdeacon Long, who laid himself out to
entertain the ladies.
* * * * *
It was after midnight when Mahony reached home. He would rather have
gone to bed, but having promised Mary to put in an appearance, he
changed and walked down to the town.
The ball was at its height. He skirted the rotating couples, seeking
Mary. Friends hailed him.
"Ah, well done, doctor!"
"Still in time for a spin, sir."
"Have you seen my wife?"
"Indeed and I have. Mrs. Mahony's the belle o' the ball."
"Pleased to hear it. Where is she now?"
"Look here, Mahony, we've had a reg'lar dispute," cried Willie Urquhart
pressing up; he was flushed and decidedly garrulous. "Almost came to
blows we did, over whose was the finest pair o' shoulders--your wife's
or Henry O.'s. I plumped for Mrs. M., and I b'lieve she topped the poll.
By Jove! that blue gown makes 'em look just like . . . what shall I say?
. . . like marble."
"Does fortune smile?" asked Mahony of Henry Ocock as he passed the
card-players: he had cut Urquhart short with a nod. "So his Excellency
didn't turn up, after all?"
"Sent a telegraphic communication at the last moment. No, I haven't seen
her. But stay, there's Matilda wanting to speak to you, I believe."
Tilly was making all manner of signs to attract his attention.
"Good evening, doctor.
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