"Let them," he answered recklessly. "There are plenty of other fellows around. See that moon over there? Say, Nan, I have a bully idea."
They were standing in one corner of the veranda of the Royal Poinciana. The veranda looked strangely deserted that night, the dance being at its height in the ballroom within, and it being still a little early for the inevitable drifting of couples from the heat of the ballroom to the cool breezes of the porch.
"An idea?" asked Nan, feeling adventurous herself. "Tell me."
"Back there somewhere the Bargain Rush is waiting," said Walter, his voice boyishly eager. "Since we can't dance, we might as well 'putt.' And—it seems too bad to waste that moon."
Nan thought so, too, and a moment later they were running hand in hand through the garden to the spot where the Bargain Rush waited. They scrambled on board, Walter started the engine, and they drifted out into the magic stillness of the night.
"Now tell me," said Walter after a while, his eyes shifting from the moonlit waters of the lake to Nan where she sat curled up in one of the chairs, gazing dreamily out over the shadowy water, "isn't this better than dancing?"
"It's awfully nice," admitted Nan.
"I get so tired of the hot ballroom, and the bright lights," went on the boy, as he bent over the engine, to see that it was running properly.
"Well, I get tired of the lights myself, Walter."
"And those flashing jewels! Why will some of the women load themselves with so much jewelry?"