He sat by himself on one of the faded plush-seats that went round the hall. Nobody spoke to him, nobody heeded him. The seats on either side of him were left vacant.
Sour, shabby, ill at ease, yet sure of himself, he watched with furtive eyes the flow of boys and girls swirling by him in the dance.
One of Ern's friends pointed his brother out to him.
"I know," laughed Ern. "Let him alone. He don't want us. He's above larking, Alf is."
"Never seen him at a hop before," remarked the friend. "And now he don't look happy."
The evening was hot, the dancers thirsty, the drinks good. Alf observed his brother go to the bar once, twice, and again. Then he rose to go home, nodding to himself.
Ern passed him in the dance and stopped.
"What, Alf! You're off early!"
"I got a bit of reading to do," answered Alf.
"So long, then," said Ernie. "Shan't be long first myself." And he joined the current again, with flushed face and loquacious tongue.