Ellen Neal, aghast, watched him turn on his heel and leave.
"Land!" she said to herself. "Land sakes! He's gone and done for himself now, the young idjit!"
When she turned again, she saw Mrs. Darcy refreshing herself with a glass of "Dick Fizz" at the punch bowl. She seemed to need it.
CHAPTER XX
But Effie May's amiability was proof even against this trying episode. She said to Joan, the day after the ball, when they were talking things over in unusual intimacy, "By the way, who's the young fellow that danced so much with you last night—a sort of broad, odd chap he was, with ears? I don't think I've seen him before."
"Oh, Mr. Blair," Joan smiled at the description. "He danced with me so much because he didn't know any one else."
"A stranger here? Where does he come from?"
"I don't know—the slums, I fancy. Ask Ellen Neal. He's a pal of hers. But he's a Louisville product, I believe."
Effie May glanced at her casually, "Didn't you like him, dearie?"