If there was anything that put life into Claribel Housing, it was "straightening out" someone else's life. She looked on Jack with the air of the practiced social worker.
"There, there, son," she roared. "Don't take on so about it. I'm sure she wasn't half good enough for you." She placed a beefy arm about his shoulder, and nodded to her partner. "Everett, we must do something for this poor soul."
Everett Housing had learned to accept his wife's "projects" with resigned good humor.
"Yes, dear," he sighed, and followed obediently as his wife led the hapless Jack from the dance floor. It didn't seem to concern the matron that the dancers were stopping to observe their progress.
Back at the table, Julie, noticing the excitement, reached for Marc's sleeve.
"Something's happening to Jack and Toffee!" she cried, jumping up. Marc, jolted from his reverie, followed after her. They reached the group on the dance floor just in time to witness Toffee's reappearance.
"What's going on here?" screamed Toffee, confronting Mrs. Housing.
"Please get out of my way," said Mrs. Housing regally.
"Get out of your way!" Toffee flared. "You should be ashamed of yourself! Picking up a girl's man when her back is turned—and on public dance floors too! And at your age!"