The audience seated round the sides of the room was applauding vociferously, and urging the dancers on to greater efforts. And then suddenly Joan broke away from her partner and danced alone, while Vane leaned against the door with his jaw set in a straight, hard line. Once his eyes travelled round the faces of the men who were looking on, and his fists clenched at his sides. There was one elderly man in particular, with protruding eyes, who roused in him a perfect fury of rage. . . .
It was a wild, daring exhibition—a mass of swirling draperies and grey silk stockings. More, it was a wonderful exhibition. She was dancing with a reckless abandon which gradually turned to sheer devilry, and she began to circle the room close to the guests who lined the walls. There were two men in front of Vane, and as she came near the door he pushed forward a little so that he came in full view. For the moment he thought she was going to pass without seeing him, and then their eyes met. She paused and faltered, and then swinging round sank gracefully to the floor in the approved style of curtsey to show she had finished.
The spectators clamoured wildly for an encore, but she rose and came straight up to Vane.
"Where have you been?" she said.
"Unconscious in hospital for ten days," he answered grimly. "I went down in the 'Connaught.' . . . May I congratulate you on your delightful performance?"
For a second or two he thought she was going to faint, and instinctively he put out his arm to hold her. Then the colour came back to her face again, and she put her arm through his.
"I want something to eat. Take me, please. . . . No, no, my dear people, no more," as a throng of guests came round her. "I require food."
Her hand on his arm pushed Vane forward and obediently he led her across the ballroom.
"If there's any champagne get me a glass," she said, sitting down at a table. "And a sandwich. . . ."
Obediently Vane fetched what she desired; then he sat down opposite her.