“Yes,” said Paula, eying the various young men that filed up and down before them, some pale, some dark, some handsome, some plain, but all smiling and dapper, if not debonair, “some men could be endured if only they were not men .”
Mr. Ensign gave her a quick look, and while he laughed at the paradox, straightened himself like one who could be a man if the occasion called. She saw the action and blushed.
But their conversation was soon interrupted. Mr. Sylvester was seen returning from the supper-room, looking decidedly anxious, and while Paula was ignorant of what had transpired to annoy him, her ready spirit caught the alarm, and she was about to rush up to him and address him, when one of the waiters approached, and murmuring a few words she did not hear, handed him a card upon which she descried nothing but a simple circle. Instantly a change crossed his already agitated countenance, and advancing to the ladies with a word or two that while seemingly cheerful, struck Paula as somewhat forced, excused himself with the information that a business friend had been so inconsiderate as to importune him for an interview in the hall. And with just a nod towards Mr. Ensign, who had drawn back at his advance, left them and disappeared in the crowd about the door.
“I do not like these interruptions from business friends in a time of pleasure,” cried Paula, looking after him with anxious eyes. “Did you notice how agitated he seemed, Cicely? And half an hour ago he was the picture of calm enjoyment.”
“Business is beyond our comprehension, Paula,” returned her friend evasively. “It is something like a neuralgic twinge, it takes a man when he least expects it. Have you told Mr. Ensign of our adventure?”
“No, but I informed Mr. Sylvester, and he said such good, true words to me, Cicely. I can never forget them.”