elf from the lightest of social motives love came to him;
the world was suddenly a place of fixed rainbows, and dancing--with
her--no longer a gladsome capering, but a holy rite.

On a certain Friday evening unstarred by any portent she had burst upon
his yielding eyes. Instantly he could have told Winona more than she
would ever know about love at first sight. A creature of rounded beauty,
peerlessly blonde, her mass of hair elaborately coifed and bound about
her pale brow with a fillet of sable velvet. He saw her first in the
dance, sumptuously gowned, regal, yet blithe, yielding as might a
goddess to the mortal embrace of Bill Bardin as they fox-trotted to the
viol's surge. He was stricken dumb until the dance ended. Then he
gripped an arm of Spike Brennon, who had stood by him against the wall,
"looking 'em over," as Spike had put it.

"Look!" he urged in tones hushed to the wonder of her. Spike had looked.

"Gee!" breathed the stricken one mechanically. He would not have chosen
the word, but it formed a vent for his emotion.

"Bleached blonde," said Spike after a sharper scrutiny of the fair one,
who now coquetted with a circle of gallants.

"Isn't she?" exclaimed the new lover, admiringly.

With so golden a result to dazzle him, was he to quarrel pettishly with
the way it had been wrought?

"Do you suppose I could be introduced to her?" demanded Wilbur, timidly.

This marked the depth of his passion. He was too good a dancer to talk
such nonsense ordinarily.

"Surest thing you know," said Spike. "Could you be introduced to her?
In a split second! Come on!"

"But you don't know her yourself?" Wilbur hung back.

"Stop your kiddin'!"

Spike half dragged his fearful charge across the floor, not too subtly
shouldered a way between Bill Bardin and Terry Stamper, bowed gracefully
to the strange beauty, and said, "Hello, sister! Shake hands with my
friend, Kid Cowan."

"Pleased to meet you!" She smiled graciously upon Wilbur and extended a
richly jewelled hand, which he timidly pressed. Then she turned to Spike
Brennon. "I know your name, all right," she declared. "You're that
Mister Fresh we hear so much about--giving introductions to parties you
ain't met yourself."

Wilbur Cowan blushed for Spike's _faux pas_, looking to see him slink
off abashed, but there were things he had yet to learn about his friend.

"Just for that," said Spike, "I'll take this dance with you." And
brazenly he encircled her wai