vening were attempting to obtain dance orders
at once, or to push their way back with them to the young ladies they
were escorting.

These ladies, and other ladies without escorts, were crowding each other
against the stacked benches and maneuvering for positions where their
dance orders would fill promptly. The atmosphere was one of strife and
stress. But Judith found no fault with it. She was not aware of it.

In a corner near the stage, by the closed door of the refreshment-room,
a boy was standing alone. He was tearing up his dance order. It was
empty, and he was making no further attempts to fill it. He tore it
quite unostentatiously so that no young lady disposed to be amused by
his defeat could see anything worth staring at in his performance, and
he was forgotten in his corner. But Judith stared.

She had remembered him tall, but he was only a little taller than
herself. His black suit was shiny, and a size too small for him, but it
was carefully brushed, and he wore it with an air. His hair was darker
than she remembered, a pale, soft brown. It was too long, and it curled
at the temples. He stood squarely, facing the room, as if he did not
care what anybody did to him, but there was a look about his mouth as if
he cared. He raised his eyes. They were darker than she remembered,
darker and stranger than any eyes in the world. They looked hurt, but
there was a laugh in them, too, and across the hall they were looking
straight at Judith.

"Here you are. I've got myself down for all your contras. Just in time."

Willard, mopping his brow, slipping on a patch of wax, and saving
himself with a skating motion, brought up triumphantly beside her,
waving two dance orders. Judith pushed them away, and said
something--she hardly knew what.

"What, Judy? What's that? You're engaged for this? You can't dance it
with me?"

"No. No, I can't."

Judith slipped past him, and started across the floor. The music was
louder now, as if you were really meant to dance, and dance with the
person you wanted to most. The floor was filling now with dancers
stepping forward awkwardly, but turning into different creatures when
they danced, caught by the light, sure swing of the music, whirling and
gliding. The words sang themselves to Judith, the silly, beautiful
words:

Please don't keep me waiting.
Won't you let me know
That you really love me?
Tell--me--so.

A girl in red was dancing in a quick, darting