But she had already forgotten Hennie. I was forgotten, too. She was trying to remember something ... She was miles away.
     "I - don't - know," she said slowly, from that far place.
     "I suppose you prefer it to London. It's more - more--"
     When I didn't go on she came back and looked at me, very puzzled. "More--?" "Have you really never been to a ball before, Leila? But, my child, how too weird--" cried the Sheridan girls.
     "Our nearest neighbour was fifteen miles," said Leila softly, gently opening and shutting her fan.
     Oh dear, how hard it was to be indifferent like the others! She tried not to smile too much; she tried not to care. But every single thing was so new and exciting ... Meg's tuberoses, Jose's long loop of amber, Laura's little dark head, pushing above her white fur like a flower through snow. She would remember for ever. It even gave her a pang to see her cousin Laurie throw away the wisps of tissue paper he pulled from the fastenings of his new gloves. She would like to have kept those wisps as a keepsake, as a remembrance. Laurie leaned forward and put his hand on Laura's knee.
     "Look here, darling," he said. "The third and the ninth as usual. Twig?"
     "Enfin - gayer," I cried, waving my cigarette.
     But that took a whole cake to consider. Even then, "Oh well, that depends!" was all she could safely say.
     Hennie had finished. He was still very warm.
     I seized the butterfly list off the table. "I say - what about an ice, Hennie? What about tangerine and ginger? No, something cooler. What about a fresh pineapple cream?"