MERIWEATHER was never to forget Hildegarde as she was that night. Watching her from his balcony, he saw her as a green flame streaming meteorically among the dancers. Nobody else counted. The rest of the people in the ballroom were pale phantoms; merged into a paler background. Hildegarde drew to herself all the light, leaving the others drained of brightness.
His search for her earlier in the evening had been fruitless. Passing one of the lower rooms, he had seen Sally, a maid on her knees beside her.
"Come and talk to me while I am being mended," Sally said, "if you have nothing better to do."
"I am looking for Hildegarde."
She was petulant. "Oh, well, I won't keep you."
He smiled at her? "She's probably back in the ballroom by this time."
"She and Louis are creating a great sensation. Everybody is talking about them."
"Louis is great stuff, isn't he? He looks twenty years younger." Meriweather did not say what he thought of Hildegarde. But Sally knew.
The maid had finished mending the flounce. "Let's find a quiet corner," Sally suggested. "I want your advice, Merry."
