"I didn't know if you wanted to dance," began Cameron, "but I——"
"It was very good of you, Steuart, very good indeed," she replied. "I would much rather dance with my friends than with——"
"Your enemies," he appended.
"I don't say so."
"No, I say so. Meanwhile, let us forget Porshinger and enjoy the music. You sure are a dancer, Stephanie!"
"So Sheldon says!" she smiled. "I'm delighted that I haven't lost that too"—then gave herself up to the slow languorous waltz, so intoxicating in its swing that it fairly lifted them up and bore them along without an effort.
"Thank you!" said Cameron, when it ended. "It was entrancing—simply entrancing! Don't dance so with Porshinger, I pray you; he may not be able to withstand temptation."
"I knew I could trust you, Steuart!" she laughed. "I'll be more prudent with the other."
And she was—dancing it in the formal way, with tight held body, yielding just sufficiently for the dance but not a shade more.