Part 1 (2/2)

”You surely don't imagine that I would get out on the floor with all this hoi-poloi?”

Quin saw a pair of small gloved hands grasp the railing resolutely, and he was straightway filled with indignation that any man, of whatever rank, should stand back on his dignity when a voice like that asked a favor. A similar idea had evidently occurred to the young lady, for she said with some spirit:

”The only difference I can see between these boys and you is that they are privates who got over, and you are an officer who didn't.”

Quin could not hear the answer, but as the officer s.h.i.+fted his position he caught his first glimpse of the girl. She was very young and obviously imperious, with white skin and coal-black hair and the most utterly destructive brown eyes he had ever encountered. Discretion should have prompted him to seek immediate safety out of the firing-line, but instead he put himself in the most exposed position possible and waited results.

They arrived on schedule time.

”Captain Phipps!” called a page. ”Wanted on the telephone.”

”Will you wait for me here just a second?” asked the officer.

”I don't know whether I will or not,” was the spirited answer; ”I may go home.”

”Then I'll follow you,” said the Captain as he pushed his way through the crowd to the telephone-booth.

It was just at this moment, when the jazz band was breaking into its most beguiling number, that Quin's eyes and the girl's eyes met in a glance of mutual desire. History repeated itself. Once again, ”with total disregard for his personal safety, Sergeant Graham a.s.sumed command when his officer was disabled,” and rashly flung himself into the breach.

”Will you dance it with me?” he asked eagerly, and he blushed to the roots of his stubbly hair.

There was an ominous pause, during which the young girl stood irresolute, while Mrs. Grundy evidently whispered ”Don't” in one ear and instinct whispered ”Do” in the other. It lasted but a second, for the next thing Quin knew, a small gloved hand was slipped into his, a blue plume was tickling his nose, and he was gliding a bit unsteadily into Paradise.

What his heart might do after that dance was of absolutely no consequence to him. It could beat fast or slow, or even stop altogether, if it would only hold out as long as the music did. Round and round among the dancers he guided his dainty partner, carefully avoiding the entrance end of the hall, and devoutly praying that his clumsy army shoes might not crush those little high-heeled brown pumps tripping so deftly in and out between them. He was not used to dancing with officers' girls, and he held the small gray-gloved hand in his big fist as if it were a bird about to take flight.

Next to the return of the Captain, he dreaded that other dancers, seeing his prize, would try to capture her; but there was a certain tempered disdain in the poise of his little partner's head, an ability to put up a quick and effective defense against intrusion, that protected him as well.

Neither of them spoke until the music stopped, and then they stood applauding vociferously, with the rest, for an encore.

”I ought to go,” said the Radiant Presence, with a guilty glance upward from under long eyelashes. ”You don't see a very cross-looking Captain charging around near the door, do you?”

”No,” said Quin, without turning his head, ”I don't see him”--and he smiled as he said it.

Now, Quin's smile was his chief a.s.set in the way of looks. It was a leisurely smile, that began far below the surface and sent preliminary ripples up to his eyes and the corners of his big mouth, and broke through at last in a radiant flash of good humor. In this case it met a very prompt answer under the big hat.

”You see, I'm not supposed to be dancing,” she explained rather condescendingly.

”Nor me, either,” said Quin, breathing heavily.

Then the band decided to be accommodating, and the saxophone decided to out-jazz the piano, and the drum got its ambition roused and joined in the compet.i.tion, and the young couple who were not supposed to be dancing out-danced everything on the floor!

Quin's heart might have adjusted itself to that first dance, but the rollicking encore, together with the emotional shock it sustained every time those destructive eyes were trained upon him, was too much for it.

”Say, would you mind stopping a bit?--just for a second?” he gasped, when his breath seemed about to desert him permanently.

”You surely aren't _tired_?” scoffed the young lady, lifting a pair of finely arched eyebrows.

<script>