“How did you get on?”
“Not—not very well.”
“You don’t like him?”
Jessie Petrie came running up: “Kühler, Kühler!” she cried. “Do, do dance with me!”
He was very angry with Morrison for daring not to like Logan, for making up her mind in two minutes that she did not like him. He gave her a furious glance as Weldon took his place and started a waltz, put his arms round Jessie’s waist, and swung into the dance.
“Oh, Kühler!” said Jessie in her pretty birdlike voice, “I heard the most awful story about you the other day.”
“Do be quiet!” he grunted. “Dance!”
But he was out of temper, out of tune, and the music he had been crashing out on the pianola was thudding in his head, so that he could not respond either to the music of the waltz or to Jessie’s eagerness.
“Isn’t it funny Thompson being back in London? I don’t like him a bit now. You have spoiled me for everybody else. Do you want me to come on Friday as usual?”