The Range Dwellers by B. M. Bower
page 58 of 151 (38%)
page 58 of 151 (38%)
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thing, to hurl ourselves so unceremoniously into the merrymakings of the
enemy; but I comforted myself with the thought that the dance was given as a public affair, so that we were acting within our technical rights--though I own that, as I looked around upon our crowd, ranged solemnly along the wall, it struck me that we _were_ a bit spectacular. She was there, chatting with some other women, at the far end of the hall, and if she saw me enter the room she did not show any disquietude; from where I stood, she seemed perfectly at ease, and unconscious of anything unusual having occurred. Old King I could not see. A waltz was announced--rather, bellowed--and the boys drifted away from me. It was evident that they did not intend to become wall flowers. For myself, it occurred to me that, except my somewhat debatable acquaintance with Miss King, I did not know a woman in the room. I called up all my courage and fortitude, and started toward her. I was determined to ask her to dance, and I got some chilly comfort out of the reflection that she couldn't do any worse than refuse; still, that would be quite bad enough, and I will not say that I crossed that room, with three or four hundred eyes upon me, in any oh-be-joyful frame of mind. I rather suspect that my face resembled that plebeian and oft-mentioned vegetable, the beet. I was within ten feet of her, and I was thinking that she couldn't possibly hold that cool, unconscious look much longer, when a hand feminine was extended from the row of silent watchers and caught at my sleeve. "Ellie Carleton, it's never you!" chirped a familiar voice. I turned, a bit dazed with the unexpected interruption, and saw that it was Edith Loroman, whom I had last seen in the East the summer before, when I was gyrating through Newport and all those places, with Barney |
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