use to remember.

"How strange to see you away out here," she murmured, and glanced to
where the musicians were beginning to play little preparatory strains.
"Have you forgotten how to _waltz_, Will? You used to dance so _well_!"

What could a man do after a hint as broad as that one? Weary held out
his arm meekly, while mentally he was gnashing his teeth, and muttered
something about her giving him a trial. And she slipped her hand under
his elbow with a proprietary air that was not lost upon a certain
brown-eyed young woman across the hall.

Weary had said some hard things to Myrtle Forsyth when he talked with
her last, away back in Iowa; he had hoped to heaven he never would see
her again. Now, she observed that he had not lost his good looks in
grieving over her. She decided that he was even better looking; there
was an air of strength and a self poise that was very becoming to his
broad shoulders and the six feet two inches of his height. She
thought, before the waltz was over, that she had made a mistake when
she threw him over--a mistake which she ought to rectify at once.

Weary never knew how she managed it--in truth, he was not aware that
she did it at all--but he seemed to dance a great many times with her
of the long eyes and the bright auburn hair. The schoolma'am seemed
always to be at the farther end of the room, and she appeared to be
enjoying herself very much and to dance incessantly.

Once he broke away from Miss Forsyth and went and asked Miss Satterly
for the next waltz; but she opened her big eyes at him and assured him
politely that she was engaged. He tried for a quadrille, a two-step, a
schottische--even for a polka, which she knew he hated; but the
schoolma'am was, apparently, the most engaged young woman in Dry Lake
that night.

So Weary owned himself beaten and went back to Miss Forsyth, who had
been watching and learning many things and making certain plans. Weary
danced with her once and took a fit of sulking, when he stood over by
the door and smoked cigarettes and watched moodily the whirling
couples. Miss Forsyth drifted to other acquaintances, which was
natural; what was not so natural, to Weary's mind, was to see her
sitting out a quadrille with the schoolma'am.

That did not look good to Weary, and he came near going over and
demanding to know what they were talking about. He was ready to bet
that Myrt Forsyte, with that smile, was up to some deviltry--and he
wished