Her cheeks matched her frock, and her eyes--what were her eyes?
Black stars, or wells of darkness into which a man might fall and drown
himself?
She seemed to draw to herself, as she danced, among the soberer colours
of her elders and the white frocks of the country cousins, all the light
in the room. "I would look at something else if I could," thought
Richard to himself, "but it would be only a blur to me after looking at
her."
When Roberta returned Uncle Rufus's bow it was with a posturing such as
Richard had seen only in plays; it struck him now that the graceful
droop of her whole figure to the floor was the most perfect thing he had
ever seen; and when her head came up and he saw her laughing face lift
again to meet her partner's, he considered the boyish old gentleman who
took her hand and led her on in the intricate figures of the dance a
person to be envied.
"Aren't Rob and Uncle Rufus the greatest couple you ever laid eyes on?"
exulted Louis Gray, coming up to greet him. "The next is going to be a
waltz. Will you ask Mrs. Stephen? We'll let you begin easily, but shall
expect you to end by dancing with Aunt Ruth, Uncle Rufus's wife--which
will be no hardship when you really know her, I assure you.
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