The Dean kept urging him on gently, but he would not be
hurried.
"Now take him straight home," said Tillman. "Good-night." And hardly
waiting for May's bow he turned away and disappeared among the throng
that was making for the door.
Quisante, at last escaping from his admirers, came up to his wife. His
eyes were very bright, and he ran to her, holding out both his hands. She
put hers in his and said, "We must go home. You'll be worn out."
"Worn out? Not I! But you look worn out. Come along. Ah, Marchmont, this
is a compliment indeed."
They were almost alone in the room now. May took her husband's arm and
they walked thus together.
"Are you pleased?" he whispered.
"Am I pleased!" she said with the laugh he knew and an upward glance of
her eyes. Quisante himself laughed and drew himself to his full height,
carrying his head defiantly. For though he sought and loved to please
all, it was pleasing her that had been foremost in his mind that night.
He had remembered the boast he made on Duty Hill; now it was justified,
and he had once again tasted his sweetest pleasure.
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