Marley was standing with Lavinia near the door. He was trying to affect an ease; he knew by the way the other girls glanced at him now and then that they were speculating on his possibilities as a partner; he tried just then to look as if he were going to dance as all the other men were, yet he felt the necessity of confessing to Lavinia.
“You know,” he said contritely, “that I don’t dance.”
She looked up, a disappointment springing to her eyes too quickly for her to conceal it. She was flushed with pleasure and excitement, and tapping her foot in time with the chords Payson and Gallard were trying on their instruments. Marley saw her surprise.
“I ought not to have come,” he said; “I’ve no business here.”
The look of disappointment in Lavinia’s eyes had gone, and in its place was now an expression of sympathy.
“It makes no difference,” she said. And then she added in a low voice: “I’ll not dance either; there are too many of us girls anyway.”
“Oh, don’t let me keep you from it,” said Marley, and yet a joy was shining in his eyes. She turned away and blushed.
“I’ll give you all my dances,” she said; “we can sit them out.”
“But it won’t be any fun for you,” protested Marley. And just then Lawrence came up.
“Say, Glenn,” he said, “if you don’t want to dance I’ll take Lavinia for the first number.”