more compelling, and she was caught up and carried along, though
her velvet-shod feet never left the floor. Then came the sudden
control down to the shorter step again, and she felt herself
being held slightly from him so that he might look into her face
and laugh with her in joy at the exploit. At the end, as the band
slowed in the last bars, they, too, slowed, their dance fading
with the music in a lengthening glide that ceased with the last
lingering tone.

"We're sure cut out for each other when it comes to dancin'," he
said, as they made their way to rejoin the other couple.

"It was a dream," she replied.

So low was her voice that he bent to hear, and saw the flush in
her cheeks that seemed communicated to her eyes, which were
softly warm and sensuous. He took the program from her and
gravely and gigantically wrote his name across all the length of
it.

"An' now it's no good," he dared. "Ain't no need for it."

He tore it across and tossed it aside.

"Me for you, Saxon, for the next," was Bert's greeting, as they
came up. "You take Mary for the next whirl, Bill."

"Nothin' doin', Bo," was the retort. "Me an' Saxon's framed up to
last the day."