slow-whirling life.

Hazel was glad to dance with him or anyone, so that she might dance.
Reddin held his head high, for he was a lover to-night, and he had
never been that before in any of his amours.

He was angry and enthralled with Hazel, and the two emotions together
were intoxicating.

Hazel was a flower in a gale when she danced, a slim poplar tremulous
and swaying in the dawn, a young beech assenting to the wind's will.

Abel watched her with pride. She was turning out a credit to him, after
all. It was astonishing.

'It's worth playing for our 'Azel's feet. The others just stomps,' he
thought. 'Who's the fellow she's along with? I'd best keep an eye. A
bargain's a bargain.'

'You'm kept your word,' said Hazel suddenly to Reddin.

'H'm?'

'Tired me out.'

'Come outside, then, and I'll get you a cup of tea.'

He fetched it and sat down by her on an orange-box.

'Now look here,' he said, 'fair and square, will you marry me?'