"Oh, that's closed, long. There was some talk of using it for what they called a community club. The Eagle was boosting for a big new place. What they called a Community Memorial Centre. But I don't know. It kind of fell through, I guess."
"I won't go," said Chug, suddenly.
"Go where, Chug?"
But instead of answering, Chug put his second question.
"Have you seen—is that—I wonder if that Weld girl's back."
"My, yes. Papers were full of it. Old Oakley gave her a big dance, and all, at the Country Club. They say—"
A week later, his arm about Wanda's big, yielding waist, he was dancing at Woodman's Hall. There was about her a cheap, heavy scent. She had on a georgette blouse and high-heeled shoes. She clung to Chug and smiled up at him. Wanda had bad teeth—yellow, with a sort of scum over them.
"I sure was lonesome for you, Chug. You're some dancer, I'll say. Honest, I could dance with you all night." A little pressure of her arm.
Somewhere in the recesses of his brain a memory cell broke. Dimly he heard himself saying, "Oh, they all tell me that."
"Crazy about yourself, ain't you!"