The ballroom was crowded. Gale felt as though she scarcely knew the young people there. There was such a difference. Formal clothes on the boys and long, fluffy gowns on the girls changed the hail-and-well-met chums of the campus to dignified young people. The committee had spared no pains to make the night one to be remembered. The ballroom was decorated artfully with the school colors. The orchestra played smooth, sweet rhythm.
“Happy?” Brent asked.
Gale sighed. “I didn’t know I could be so happy.”
Over his shoulder—she could just about see over Brent’s shoulder—Gale smiled at Phyllis dancing with David Kimball. She was delighted on Phyllis’ account. It had been a long time before Phyllis dared plan to come to the dance. There was Valerie dancing with Peter Arnold—and Janet! Janet with Mark Sherwin and having the time of her life. That was easily determined by the rapt expression on her friend’s face. Gale in her long acquaintance with Janet had never seen the latter look so demure and sweet.
Carol was there with her favorite basketball player, as was Madge with the boy next door. In fact every one Gale knew was there and well they might be. It was the goodbye social affair for them. In another month they would be graduating from high school. Then would come vacation days and then college.
Mingling with the other young people she knew Gale felt happy. She danced with the other boys and Brent danced at least once with the other Adventure Girls, but Gale was happiest when she was dancing with Brent. At other times they talked a lot, they always had something to talk about, to discuss, to laugh about, but tonight they were for the most part silent. Gale felt it was all a dream. The reality was even more sweet than her dreams had been.
Down the smooth expanse of floor Brent guided their progress, winding in and out among the other dancers, to the wide French windows that led out onto the terrace of the Country Club. It was an exceptionally warm night for the spring and startlingly clear. The stars were out doubly strong and the moon beamed with, it seemed, whole-hearted approval upon the pleasure of the young people.
With mutual consent they found a little stone bench in the seclusion of a willow tree and sat down. The night was scented with the sweetness of blossoming flowers. Gale leaned her head back against the rough trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. She felt if something didn’t happen soon to remind her she was actually here she would simply burst with happiness and contentment. It was like a setting in a play—the garden, a boy and girl, and in the distance the faint murmur of music.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she murmured.
Brent had eyes not for the night, but only for Gale. He said as much and she smiled.