"You dance!"
"Certainly, why not?"
"I begin to think you are crazy, Fred Fenton."
"I don't see why."
"Of course you can't dance."
"Of course I can. I am a pupil of Professor Saville. But I must bid you good evening, as it is time I was at the party."
Raymond gazed after Fred as he walked toward the scene of the evening's enjoyment with corrugated brows.
"I never heard of anything more ridiculous," he muttered. "It's like a beggar on horseback. Think of a poor boy like Fred figuring at Rose Wainwright's party. It is disgusting."
Fred would not have had his share of human nature if he had not enjoyed the discomfiture of his haughty cousin.
"He thinks this world was made for him," he said to himself. "There would be no place for me in it if he had his will."