Mary gasped. She struggled. She tried to push herself free. But Bill was oblivious to all but his honest joy.
"Oh, girl!" he murmured, over and over again.
The crowd, which had been moving restlessly, became immobile again. It forgot even Aunt Caroline.
Mary Wayne writhed frantically in the grip that held her. Her feet, inches clear of the floor, beat the air impotently. She worked an arm free and tried to strike, inspired, perhaps, by a memory of the battle; but a series of futile slaps was all that resulted. She stormed at him; she tried to slay him with her eyes. But Bill Marshall only smiled happily, bent his head and kissed her on the freckles.
"Oh, girl!"
At last he set her free, placing her gently on her feet and gazing at her with an intensity of admiration that ought to have made any woman proud. But Mary was in a cyclonic state of rage and consternation. She swung an open hand against his ear with a crack that resembled a pistol-shot, and fled ignominiously from the room. Bill looked after her, nodding his head proudly and grinning wide.
"Oh, girl!" he whispered.
Aunt Caroline tapped him sharply on the arm.
"William, do you know what this means?"
Bill rallied from his ecstasy and began to scratch his chin. He neither knew how to approach nor to evade explanation. Kid Whaley went generously to the rescue. He had draped a bath-robe over his shoulders, and now accosted Aunt Caroline with the assurance of a gentleman who regards himself fittingly garbed for an occasion.