How dress changes a person! she thought. He looked at ease now in this
gorgeous garment, and a very prince for a fairy tale. That accounted
for the dreadful gray flannel--he was a soldier and unaccustomed to
wearing ordinary clothes. She had heard that in foreign countries even
the officers wore their uniforms habitually; not as the English do,
merely as an irksome duty.

He did not appear to see her, but when she began dancing again, and
paused once more for breath, she was close to him as he stood some way
apart and alone.

Their eyes met. His had the same whimsical provoking smile in them
which angered and yet attracted her. He made no move to bow to her, nor
did he take any steps to be introduced. She burnt with annoyance.

"He might at least have been presented; it is too impertinent
otherwise!" she thought.

She knew she was looking her best: a fair, distinguished woman as young
and fresh as a girl. Hardly a man in the room was unconscious of her
presence. Anger lent an extra brightness to her eyes and cheeks. She
went on dancing wildly.

The next time she was near the stranger was some half an hour later,
although not once was she able to banish the scarlet form from her
view. He did not dance. He talked now and then to his Prince, and then
he was presented to the official ladies, with the rest of the suite. He
looked bored.