ion. Did the little man suspect? The succeeding moments brushed
the question aside.

Betty was radiant, lovelier in her white-and-yellow fashion than George
had ever seen her. He shrank a little from their first contact, all the
more startling to him because he was so little accustomed to the ritual
familiarity of dancing. With his arm around her, with her hand in his,
with her golden hair brushing his cheek, with her lips and eyes smiling
up at him, he felt like one who steals. Why not? Didn't people win their
most prized possessions through theft of one kind or another? It was
because those pliant fingers were always at his mind that he wanted to
release them, wanted to run away from Betty since she always made him
desire to tell her the truth.

"I'm glad you could come. It isn't as bad as football, is it? Have we
any more? If I show signs of distress do cut in if you're not too busy."

He overcame his fear of collisions, avoiding other couples smoothly and
rhythmically. Dalrymple, he observed, was less successful, apologizing
in a high, excited voice. As in a haze George watched a procession of
elderly women, young girls, and men of every age, with his own tall
figure and slightly anxious face greeting him now and then from a
mirror. This repeated and often-unexpected recognition encouraged him.
He was bigger and better looking than most; in the glasses, at least, he
appeared as well-dressed. More than once he heard girls say:

"Who is that big chap with Betty Alston?"

With all his heart he wanted to ask Betty why she had been so kind to
him from the beginning, why she was so kind now. He longed to tell her
how it had affected him. She glanced up curiously. Without realizing it
his grasp had tightened. He relaxed it, wondering what had been in his
mind. It was this odd proximity to a beautiful girl who had been kind to
him that had for a moment swung him from his real purpose in coming
here, the only purpose he had. He resumed his inspection of the crowding
faces. He didn't see Lambert or Sylvia. Had he been wrong? It was
incredible they shouldn't appear.

The music stopped.

"Thanks," he said. "Three after this."

His voice was wistful.

"I did like that."

He desired to tell her that he didn't care to dance with any one else,
except Sylvia, of course.

"I enjoyed it, too. Will you take me back?"

But her partner met them on the way, and he commenced to trail his.

It was halfway through the next nu