'Another dance has begun,' she said.
'Somebody must be looking for you.'
'No,' Henrietta said, 'it's with Mr. Sales,' and turning to him with
the effect of ignoring Rose, she said in a clear voice which became
slightly harsh as she saw him gazing at her aunt oddly, almost as
though he were astonished by a new sight, 'Shall we go back to the
terrace or shall we dance?'
'You'll get cold,' Charles said again angrily.
'Let us dance,' Sales said.
The door to the ball-room closed behind them and Charles let out a
groan. 'You see!' he said.
Rose hoped he did not see too much and she was reassured when he
added, 'She takes no notice of me.'
'Poor Charles, but you know you treat her a little like a child. You
shouldn't talk of catching cold. You're too material.'
She was surprised to hear him say with a sort of humble pride, 'Only
before other people. She's heard me different.' Then, dropping into
the despair of his own thoughts, and with the rage of one feeling
himself sinking hopelessly, he cried out, 'It's like pouring water
through a sieve.'
The voice of Rose, very calm and wise, said gently, 'Continue to
pour.'
'It's all very fine,' he muttered.
'Continue to pour. It may be all you can do, but it is worth while.'
'I told her I would do that, one night, on the hill. She said she
didn't want it.'
'She doesn't know,' Rose said in the same voice, comforting in its
quietness. She stood up.
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