She began to stroke his neck and to press her face against his breast. At the same moment he saw Morrison among the dancers. He slowed down and then stopped dead. The music rose to an exultant riot of sound.
“Please, please!” cried Jessie, clinging to him; but he had forgotten her.
Morrison and her partner swept past him, and he watched them go the full circle. She saw him standing, and as she approached broke away from her partner.
“Why aren’t you dancing with me?” he said, shaking with eagerness to hear her speak.
“I’m no good at dancing,” she said. “I don’t enjoy it.”
“Who brought you here? Calthrop?”
“He brought Clowes and me. . . . You mustn’t stop dancing. Your partner. . . .”
“Please, please!” cried Jessie, stamping her foot; “the music is going to stop.”
“Wait a moment,” he said, turning to Morrison. “Are you going home?”
“The day after to-morrow.”