me alone with Zoie as much as possible."

"Zoie!" sniffed Jimmy. The name to him was as flippant as its
owner.

"True, strong name," commented Alfred. "So simple, so direct, so
like her. I'll have to leave you now," he said, rising. "I must
send her some flowers for the dance." He turned at the door.
Suppose I add a few from you for Aggie."

"What!" exploded Jimmy.

"Just by way of introduction," called Alfred gaily. "It's a good
idea."

Before Jimmy could protest further, he found himself alone for
the second time that day. He ate his roast in gloomy silence.
It seemed dry and tasteless. Even his favourite desert of plum
pudding failed to rouse him from his dark meditations, and he
rose from the table dejected and forlorn.

A few hours later, when Alfred led Jimmy into the ballroom, the
latter was depressed, not only by his friend's impending danger,
but he felt an uneasy foreboding as to his own future. With his
college course practically finished and Alfred attaching himself
to unforeseen entities, Jimmy had come to the ball with a curious
feeling of having been left suspended in mid-air.

Before he could voice his misgivings to Alfred, the young men
were surrounded by a circle of chattering females. And then it