Free Listening Valley by D. E. Stevenson

there, watching the people and listening to the snatches of conversation. “Not one left, my dear. You’re much too late…” “No, I haven’t seen her since we arrived…” “Sonia, how marvelous!” “I’ve been looking everywhere for you…” “What a crush…” “May I introduce…” “It’s no use; she’s sure to be booked up…” “Yes, isn’t he appalling…” “Oh, I beg your pardon…” “Over near the band, in blue, with a rose in her hair…” “The last extra if you’re going to be here…” “She’s sweet, isn’t she?” “Who told you that?” “Haven’t you got one left…” “She wore it last year…”
    Tonia’s heart had ceased to thump uncomfortably, for she had discovered that she was invisible. Nobody saw her, nobody made the slightest attempt to speak to her, and it was evident that nobody was going to ask her to dance. This being so, she plucked up courage and was able to look about. The floor was covered with red carpets, and there were flowers and palms and mirrors, and among these glories the throng of black-clad men and girls in gaily colored frocks moved backward and forward in a constant stream. The girls interested her more than the men. They were nearly all pretty, but not one of them was as pretty as Lou.
    Presently she heard the strains of another band and discovered that it was playing in the music hall and that more people were dancing there. The light was not so glaring in the music hall, and the whole place was decorated to resemble a Malayan village. It was hung with scenery depicting mountains and forests and blue sky, and there were grass huts around the edge of the dancing floor with seats in them. Tonia was quite happy now—if only Lou had been there she would have been completely happy—she sat down on one of the seats, leaning forward with one elbow on her knee and her cheek against her hand. It was like a play, thought Tonia, watching enthralled as the couples passed her talking gaily and suddenly, on reaching the dancing floor, melted together and swam off into a waltz.
    She was so intent, so eager to see everything that happened, that she did not notice someone had stopped and was standing beside her and looking down, and as she had made up her mind that she was invisible she was considerably startled when she was addressed by name.
    â€œMiss Melville,” said a voice.
    She raised her eyes and found that it was Mr. Norman.
    â€œOh!” exclaimed Tonia in surprise and alarm.
    Mr. Norman looked a trifle taken aback; perhaps he had expected a warmer greeting since it was by his invitation Miss Melville was here. He was not to know that he had rent Miss Melville’s comforting illusion that she was wearing an invisible cloak. He was silent for a moment, looking at her, and then he decided to persevere. “Tired of dancing?” he inquired with a kind smile.
    Tonia shook her head. “I don’t know anyone, that’s all.”
    â€œGreat Scott! Where is the rest of your party?”
    â€œI don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’d rather watch, really.”
    â€œIt’s amusing to watch,” he agreed, sitting down beside her.
    Tonia would much rather have watched alone, but she remembered that he had sent her the tickets, so she smiled at him. He looked very distinguished in his full evening dress with a white carnation in his buttonhole, and Tonia decided that even if she had not known he was “important” she would have guessed it at once from his appearance.
    â€œYou watch a good deal, don’t you?” Mr. Norman said. “You’re an onlooker and you see most of the game. This is a queer game, isn’t it—a queer artificial way of enjoyment.”
    â€œIt’s artificial, of course,” agreed Tonia,