She had all Winton's dandyism, and just so much more as was appropriate
to her sex. With her dark hair, wonderfully fluffed and coiled, waving
across her forehead, her neck bare for the first time, her eyes really
"flying," and a demeanour perfectly cool--as though she knew that light
and movement, covetous looks, soft speeches, and admiration were her
birthright--she was more beautiful than even Winton had thought her. At
her breast she wore some sprigs of yellow jasmine procured by him from
town--a flower of whose scent she was very fond, and that he had never
seen worn in ballrooms. That swaying, delicate creature, warmed by
excitement, reminded him, in every movement and by every glance of her
eyes, of her whom he had first met at just such a ball as this. And by
the carriage of his head, the twist of his little moustache, he conveyed
to the world the pride he was feeling.
That evening held many sensations for Gyp--some delightful, one
confused, one unpleasant. She revelled in her success. Admiration was
very dear to her. She passionately enjoyed dancing, loved feeling that
she was dancing well and giving pleasure. But, twice over, she sent away
her partners, smitten with compassion for her little governess sitting
there against the wall--all alone, with no one to take notice of her,
because she was elderly, and roundabout, poor darling! And, to that
loyal person's horror, she insisted on sitting beside her all through
two dances.
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