"Wait one minute, please," I said. "'The usefulness of dancing as an outlet for the emotion is probably a discovery as old as the world itself.' Um—um——When did you begin to take regular lessons, and how far——?"
I looked up. She had recognized me. Forgetfulness? Oh! I was as bad as the others.
"Wait a moment!" She rose, and left the room as quickly as her tight silk underskirt would let her. She was back again in a minute, holding my card in her hand.
"Are you his Mr. Prentice?"
I bowed my head, and laid note-book and pencil aside. What a fool I had been to come!
"Where is he? Do you see him? Oh, how I've tried and tried to remember your name!"
"I don't know where he is."
"But you've seen him? I know you have. Answer, please. Why do you look so queer?"
"I saw him last week."
"Was he well? Was he happy?"