“Why not?”
“I was searching for you. Somebody asked me to dance, but I refused him.”
“Who was it?”
“Frank.”
“Frank Merriwell?”
“Yes.”
Hodge almost choked.
“You refused to dance with Frank?” he said huskily. “All because you had not danced with me?”
“Yes, Bart,” she whispered, and he felt her hands trembling.
He found those hands and imprisoned them both, all the great love in his heart surging up to his lips and seeking to be outpoured at once.