[A step in the hall, she turns.]

FREDDY. [Enters briskly; a college boy, about twenty-one, overgrown,
narrow- chested, good-natured and slangy.] Ethel!

ETHEL. [Starts.] Freddy! Where's Oceana?

FREDDY. She won't get here till morning.

ETHEL. Oh, Freddy!

FREDDY. They can't dock the steamer to-night . . . there's some tangle
at the pier.

ETHEL. Did you go and see?

FREDDY. I telephoned about it. I didn't want to wait in this blizzard.

ETHEL. I'm so sorry!

FREDDY. Me, too. But there's no help for it.

ETHEL. So long as she doesn't miss to-morrow night! Did I read you
what she said about that, Freddy? [Takes letter from pocket.] "I'll
pray for fair weather, so that I may get there to see the beautiful
dancing. There is nothing in all the world that I love more . . . my
whole being seems to flow into the dance. I send you the music of my
Sunrise Dance, that father composed for me. You can learn it, and I'll
do it for you. I don't know, of course; but father used to think that