"We will sit here," she said. "Stumpy, why don't you smoke? Ah, the music has stopped at last. It has been racking me all the evening. Yes, you love it, of course. That is natural. I loved it once. It is always sweet to those who dance. But to those who sit out--those who sit out--" Her voice sank, and she said no more.
Dinah's hand slipped softly into hers. "I like sitting out too sometimes," she said. "At least I like it now."
Isabel's eyes were upon her again. They looked at her with a kind of incredulous wonder. After a moment she sighed.
"You would not like it for long, child. I am a prisoner. I sit in chains while the world goes by. They are all hurrying forward so eager to get on. But there is never any going on for me. I sit and watch--and watch."
"Surely we must all go forward somehow," said Dinah shyly.
"Surely," said Scott.
But Isabel only shook her head with dreary conviction. "Not the prisoners," she said. "They die by the wayside."
There fell a brief silence, then impetuously Dinah spoke, urged by the fulness of her heart. "I think we all feel like that sometimes. I know at home it's just like being in a cage. Nothing ever happens worth mentioning. And then quite suddenly the door is opened and out we come. That's partly why I am enjoying everything so much," she explained. "But it won't be a bit nice going back."
"What about your mother?" said Scott.
Dinah's bright face clouded again. "Yes, of course, there's Mother," she agreed.
She looked across at Scott as if she would say more; but he passed quietly on. "Where is your home, Miss Bathurst?"
"Right in the very heart of the Midlands. It is pretty country, but oh, so dull. The de Vignes are the rich people of the place. They belong to the County. We don't," said Dinah, with a sigh.
Scott laughed, and she looked momentarily hurt.
"I don't see what there is funny in that. The County people and the shop people are the only ones that get any fun. It's horrid to be between the two."
"Forgive me!" Scott said. "I quite see your point. But if you only knew it, the people who call themselves County are often the dullest of the dull."
"You say that because you belong to them, I expect," retorted Dinah. "But if you were me, and lived always under the shadow of the de Vignes, you wouldn't think it a bit funny."