He could afford to be independent, and
gratify his own taste. Just at this moment he was of the opinion
that Isabel Boncassen would be the sweeter companion of the two.
He had sauntered down to the place where they were dancing and
stood by, saying a few words to Mrs Boncassen. 'Why are you not
dancing, my Lord?' she asked.
'There are enough without me.'
'I guess you young aristocrats are never overfond of doing much
with your own arms and legs.'
'I don't know about that; polo, you know, for the legs, and lawn-
tennis for the arms, is hard work enough.'
'But it must always be something new-fangled; and after all it
isn't of much account. Our young men like to have quite a time at
dancing.'
It all came through her nose! And she looked so common! What
would the Duke say to her, or Mary, or even Gerald? The father was
by no means so objectionable. He was a tall, straight, ungainly
man, who always wore black clothes. He had dark, stiff, short
hair, a long nose, and a forehead that was both high and broad.
Ezekiel Boncassen was the very man,--from his appearance,--- for a
President of the United States; and there were men who talked of
him for that high office.
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