"Not yet; I want—"
She coughed loudly. Eugene and Mamie Pike had come to the window, with the evident intention of occupying the veranda, but perceiving Ariel engaged with threads in her sleeve, they turned away and disappeared. Other couples looked out from time to time, and finding the solitary figure in possession, retreated abruptly to seek stairways and remote corners for the things they were impelled to say.
And so Ariel held the porch for three dances and three intermissions, occupying a great part of the time with entreaties that her obdurate and reckless companion should go. When, for the fourth time, the music sounded, her agitation had so increased that she was visibly trembling. "I can't stand it, Joe," she said, bending over him.
"I don't know what would happen if they found you. You've GOT to go!"
"No, I haven't," he chuckled. "They haven't even distributed the supper yet!"
"And you take all the chances," she said, slowly, "just to see her pass that window a few times."
"What chances?"
"Of what the Judge will do if any one sees you."
"Nothing; because if any one saw me I'd leave."
"Please go."