it's only the shank of the evening. Leave something peppy for
the finish."

"Mame, you look like a million dollars in that rag."

"She shakes a mean shimmy, believe me...."

"That egg! Not on your life!"

"Cut the next with Ned. We'll sneak down and take a ride in my
car...."

"Oh, spiffy!"

Lane's acutely strained attention was diverted by Blair's voice.

"Look who's with my sister Margie."

Lane turned to look through an open space in the dispersing stream.
Blair's sister was passing with Dick Swann. Elegantly and fastidiously
attired, the young millionaire appeared to be attentive to his
partner. Margaret stood out rather strikingly from the other girls
near her by reason of the simplicity and modesty of her dress. She did
not look so much bored as discontented. Lane saw her eyes rove to and
fro from the entrance of the hall. When she espied Lane she nodded and
spoke with a smile and made an evident move toward him, but was
restrained by Swann. He led her past Lane and Blair without so much as
glancing in their direction. Lane heard Blair swear.

"Dare, if my mother throws Marg at that--slacker, I'll block the deal
if it's the last thing I ever do," he declared, violently.

"And I'll help you," replied Lane, instantly.

"I know Margie hates him."

"Blair, your sister is in love with Holt Dalrymple."

"No! Not really? Thought that was only a boy-and-girl affair.... Aha!
the nigger music again! Let's find a seat, Dare."

Saxophone, trombone, piccolo, snare-drum and other barbaric
instruments opened with a brazen defiance of music, and a vibrant
assurance of quick, raw, strong sounds. Lane himself felt the stirring
effect upon his nerves. He had difficulty in keeping still. From the
lines of chairs along the walls and from doors and alcoves rushed the
gay-colored throng to leap, to close, to step, to rock and sway, until
the floor was full of a moving mass of life.

The first half-dozen couples Lane studied all danced more or less as
Helen and Swann had, that day in Helen's studio. Then, by way of a
remarkable contrast, there passed two young people who danced
decently. Lane descried his sister Lorna in the throng, and when she
and her partner came round in the giddy circle, Lane saw that she
wiggled and toddled like the others. Lane, as she passed him, caught a
glance of her eyes, flashing, reproachful, furious, directed at some
one across her partner's shoulder. Lane followed that glance and saw
S