Quin, meanwhile, had gone back to the dressing-room and was making
frantic efforts to reduce the swelling in his face. If he could only keep
it down until after his dance with Eleanor, it might swell to the
dimensions of the dome of St. Peter's! A hurried survey from over the
banisters assured him that supper was soon to be served, and he went back
to his hot applications with renewed courage.
But ill luck pursued him. No sooner had the guests been seated at small
round tables and the refreshments served, than some one remembered that a
big charity ball was in progress at the armory, and it was proposed that
the evening be concluded there. The suggestion met with instant approval.
In spite of the indignant protests of the elders, the gay company, headed
by Eleanor, left the half-eaten ices melting on their plates, and, rising
in a body, took noisy and immediate flight.
At twelve o'clock the elaborately decorated rooms were empty, the
musicians were packing their instruments, the caterers were removing
trays of untasted food, and Quin, standing dazed in the deserted hall,
one hand clasping his shirt-front and the other on his face, was trying
in vain to realize that the party which he had inspired had proved his
Waterloo!
CHAPTER 15
The next day Quin sold his dinner-coat for a fourth of what he paid for
it, and forswore society forever.
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