Later Jack sought out Kate Worsley, with whom he had a dance. These two had made great progress in intimacy.
"Shall we dance?" she said.
"No, please," said Jack. "Linda says I dance like her grandfather. One gets rusty in five years!"
"To sit out then," said Kate. "Let's get in the first row of the gallery, where we can hang over and watch the giddy young things!"
Their conversation did not flourish. The night outside still had Jack by the heartstrings; loping over the prairie under the stars, the far-off ululation of a wolf, a ruddy campfire in the dark, and beside it, Mary!
"You're not exactly garrulous to-night," remarked Kate.
Jack turned a contrite face to her. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't be rude to you, Kate!"
"Bless your heart! you don't have to talk unless you are moved to it. I don't like to see a pal looking so down, that's all."
"Down?" said Jack with a laugh. "I'm living in hell, Kate!"
"Tell me about it, old man. You can, you know."