had by this time come to such a pass that he, regarded the charge
of flirting with her as little less than an implication of grave
mental deficiency. And well he remembered how Miss Pratt, beholding his
subjugated gymnastics in the dance, had grown pink with laughter! But
still the rose-leaf lips whispered:

"Lola saw! Lola saw bad boy Batster under dray bid tree fluttin' wif
dray bid dirl. Fluttin' all night wif dray bid 'normous dirl!"

Her cruelty was all unwitting; she intended to rally him sweetly. But
seventeen is deathly serious at such junctures, and William was in a
sensitive condition. He made no reply in words. Instead, he drew himself
up (from the waist, that is, because he was sitting) with a kind of
proud dignity. And that was all.

"Oo tross?" whispered Lola.

He spake not.

"'Twasn't my fault about dancing," she said. "Bad boy! What made you
come so late?"

He maintained his silence and the accompanying icy dignity, whereupon
she made a charming little pout.

"Oo be so tross," she said, "Lola talk to nice Man uvver side of her!"

With that she turned her back upon him and prattled merrily to the
gentleman of sixteen upon her right.

Still and cold sat William. Let her talk to the Man at the other side
of her as she would, and never so gaily, William knew that she was
conscious every instant of the reproachful presence upon her left. And
somehow these moments of quiet and melancholy dignity became the most
satisfactory he had known that evening. For as he sat, so silent, so
austere, and not yet eating, though a plate of chicken salad had been
placed upon his lap, he began to feel that there was somewhere about
him a mysterious superiority which set him apart from other people--and
above them. This quality, indefinable and lofty, had carried him through
troubles, that very night, which would have wrecked the lives of such
simple fellows as Joe Bullitt and Johnnie Watson. And although Miss
Pratt continued to make merry with the Man upon her right, it seemed
to William that this was but outward show. He had a strange, subtle
impression that the mysterious superiority which set him apart from
others was becoming perceptible to her--that she was feeling it, too.

Alas! Such are the moments Fate seizes upon to play the clown!

Over the chatter and laughter of the guests rose a too familiar voice.
"Lemme he'p you to nice tongue samwich, lady. No'm? Nice green lettuce
samwich, lady?"

Genesis!