“What difference does that make?” sharply countered Julia. “We both recognized her by her voice.”
“Since we did not see her face how can we be sure that we recognized her. Lacking the evidence of our own eyes our best plan is to launch no accusations against Miss Cairns. Jane,” Marjorie turned to the sophomore, “when are you going to blow the unmasking whistle?”
“After the next dance. This dance is ending now, I think.” Jane turned momentary attention to the music, which was beating to a syncopated end. “That is the time the floor committee has set. I can change it if you like, Marjorie.”
“No, thank you. That suits me nicely. I must go now, but I’ll see you soon after unmasking, Jane.” With a slight, courteous inclination of the head to Miss Peyton, Marjorie walked composedly down the great room to where Leslie stood, still surrounded.
Marjorie had not spoken to Leslie Cairns more than two or three times during the long period of time in which they had been students together at Hamilton. She had never spoken to Leslie since Leslie had been away from the college. She now wondered what she could say to the uninvited masker which might not be too humiliating to her.
CHAPTER XIII.
A FRIENDLY TURN
Circling the group around Leslie she approached the latter from the left side. Simultaneous with her approach the opening strains of a fox trot broke up the group. Not more than half a dozen persistent “rushers” lingered.
“Let’s move on,” she breathed to Leslie. She adopted a soft almost babyish tone. As she spoke she took light hold of Leslie’s arm and began to steer her gently free of the few masks who were mischievously trying to detain the foolish-faced swain.
“Surest thing you know, sweetums,” Leslie returned in a deep gruff voice. “You’re the little kid who fell over my amberil. I didn’t go for to trip you up, peaches. Want to dance?”