im.
Never in her life had she been so affected by any man. She wondered to
herself: IS THIS THE MAN?

He danced beautifully. The joy was hers that good dancers take when they
have found a good dancer for a partner. The grace of those slow-moving,
certain muscles of his accorded perfectly with the rhythm of the music.
There was never doubt, never a betrayal of indecision. She glanced at
Bert, dancing "tough" with Mary, caroming down the long floor with more
than one collision with the increasing couples. Graceful himself in his
slender, tall, lean-stomached way, Bert was accounted a good dancer; yet
Saxon did not remember ever having danced with him with keen pleasure.
Just a hit of a jerk spoiled his dancing--a jerk that did not occur,
usually, but that always impended. There was something spasmodic in his
mind. He was too quick, or he continually threatened to be too quick.
He always seemed just on the verge of overrunning the time. It was
disquieting. He made for unrest.

"You're a dream of a dancer," Billy Roberts was saying. "I've heard lots
of the fellows talk about your dancing."

"I love it," she answered.

But from the way she said it he sensed her reluctance to speak, and
danced on in silence, while she warmed with the appreciation of a
woman for gentle consideration. Gentle consideration was a thing rarely
encountered in the life she lived. IS THIS THE MAN? She remembered
Mary's "I'd marry him to-morrow," and caught herself speculating on
marrying Billy Roberts by the next day--if he asked her.

With eyes that dreamily desired to close, she moved on in the arms of
this masterful, guiding pressure. A PRIZE-FIGHTER! She experienced a
thrill of wickedness as she thought of what Sarah would say could she
see her now. Only he wasn't a prizefighter, but a teamster.

Came an abrupt lengthening of step, the guiding pressure grew more
compelling, and she was caught up and carried along, though her
velvet-shod feet never left the floor. Then came the sudden control down
to the shorter step again, and she felt herself being held slightly from
him so that he might look into her face and laugh with her in joy at
the exploit. At the end, as the band slowed in the last bars, they, too,
slowed, their dance fading with the music in a lengthening glide that
ceased with the last lingering tone.

"We're sure cut out for each other when it comes to dancin'," he said,
as they made their way to rejoin the other couple.

"I