es and the girl's eyes met in a glance of
mutual desire. History repeated itself. Once again, "with total disregard
for his personal safety, Sergeant Graham assumed command when his officer
was disabled," and rashly flung himself into the breach.

"Will you dance it with me?" he asked eagerly, and he blushed to the
roots of his stubbly hair.

There was an ominous pause, during which the young girl stood irresolute,
while Mrs. Grundy evidently whispered "Don't" in one ear and instinct
whispered "Do" in the other. It lasted but a second, for the next thing
Quin knew, a small gloved hand was slipped into his, a blue plume was
tickling his nose, and he was gliding a bit unsteadily into Paradise.

What his heart might do after that dance was of absolutely no consequence
to him. It could beat fast or slow, or even stop altogether, if it would
only hold out as long as the music did. Round and round among the dancers
he guided his dainty partner, carefully avoiding the entrance end of the
hall, and devoutly praying that his clumsy army shoes might not crush
those little high-heeled brown pumps tripping so deftly in and out
between them. He was not used to dancing with officers' girls, and he
held the small gray-gloved hand in his big fist as if it were a bird
about to take flight.

Next to the return of the Captain, he dreaded that other dancers, seeing
his prize, would try to capture her; but there was a certain tempered
disdain in the poise of his little partner's head, an ability to put up a
quick and effective defense against intrusion, that protected him as
well.

Neither of them spoke until the music stopped, and then they stood
applauding vociferously, with the rest, for an encore.

"I ought to go," said the Radiant Presence, with a guilty glance upward
from under long eyelashes. "You don't see a very cross-looking Captain
charging around near the door, do you?"

"No," said Quin, without turning his head, "I don't see him"--and he
smiled as he said it.

Now, Quin's smile was his chief asset in the way of looks. It was a
leisurely smile, that began far below the surface and sent preliminary
ripples up to his eyes and the corners of his big mouth, and broke
through at last in a radiant flash of good humor. In this case it met a
very prompt answer under the big hat.

"You see, I'm not supposed to be dancing," she explained rather
condescendingly.

"Nor me, either," said Quin, breathing heavily.

Then the band