"D'you want him?"
"Well—I suppose he wants me. This was his dance."
"Good Lord! What a mean shame," Roy flashed out. "Why on earth didn't you tell me? Wouldn't for the world...."
Her colour rose under his heated protest. "I never hang about for unpunctual partners. If they don't turn up in time—it's their loss."
Roy, intent on Lance, was scarcely listening. "He's seen us now. Come along. Let's explain."
It was Miss Arden who did the explaining in a manner all her own.
"Well—what became of you?" she asked, smiling in response to Desmond's look of interrogation. "As you didn't appear, I concluded you'd either forgotten or been caught in a rubber."
"Bad shots,—both," Desmond retorted with a direct look.
"I'm awfully sorry ... I hadn't a notion——" Roy began—and checked himself, perceiving that he could not say much without implicating his partner.
This time Desmond's smile had quite another quality. "You're very welcome. Carry on. Don't mind me. It's half over."