Lady Hartland was the yellow lady in red, who thought she was flirting with a fascinating Slav.
'She's a sort of celebrity,' continued Mrs Mitchell. 'She was an American once, and she married Sir Charles Hartland for her money. I hate these interested marriages, don't you?--especially when they're international. Sir Charles isn't here; he's such a sweet boy. He's a friend of Mr Cricker; it's through Mr Cricker I know them, really. Lady Everard has taken _such_ a fancy to young Cricker; she won't leave him alone. After all he's _my_ friend, and as he's not musical I don't see that she has any special right to him; but he's there every Wednesday now, and does his dances on their Sunday evenings too. He's got a new one--lovely, quite lovely--an imitation of Lydia Kyasht as a water-nymph. I wanted him to do it here tonight, but Lady Everard has taken him to the opera. Now, won't you dance? Your husband promised he would. You both look so young!'
Edith refused to dance. She sat in a corner with Vincy and watched the dancers.
By special permission, as it was so _intime_, the Turkey Trot was allowed. Bruce wanted to attempt it with Myra Mooney, but she was horrified, and insisted on dancing the 1880 _trois-temps_ to a jerky American two-step.
'Edith,' said Vincy; 'I think you're quieter than you used to be. Sometimes you seem rather absent-minded.'
'Am I? I'm sorry; there's nothing so tedious to other people. Why do you think I'm more serious?'
'Yes, I do. He gave a sort of meaning to everything. He's always interesting. And there's something about him--I don't know what it is. Oh, don't be frightened, Vincy, I'm not going to use the word personality. Isn't that one of the words that ought to be forbidden altogether? In all novels and newspapers that poor, tired word is always cropping up.'
'Yes, that and magnetism, and temperament, and technique. Let's cut out technique altogether. Don't let there be any, that's the best way; then no-one can say anything about it. I'm fed up with it. Aren't you?'
'Oh, I don't agree with you at all. I think there ought to be any amount of technique, and personality, and magnetism, and temperament. I don't mind _how_ much technique there is, as long as nobody talks about it. But neither of these expressions is quite so bad as that dreadful thing you always find in American books, and that lots of people have caught up--especially palmists and manicures--mentality.'