"Emily is here, but she probably wishes she hadn't come now." Lady Dalmo raised her hand towards a nearby corner: "Look, she's right there."
Arthur looked in that direction.
Emily sat upright in her chair, her back straight, hands folded on her lap, her lady-like demeanor impeccable.
But she wasn't looking at the dance floor.
Or, more accurately, she was deliberately not looking.
"She's been trying to act mature all evening." Lady Dalmo teased her daughter: "But instead, she has 'I'm very unhappy' all over her face. She thinks it's unfair, feels that she's only a few years younger than Mary, yet she has to wait a whole four more years before she's allowed to step into the dance floor."
Arthur chuckled: "Four years indeed seems long to her, especially since she's only fifteen this year."
