Campbell pulled her away for another dance, and she reflected on the dark woman, through the touch of haze forming in her own head. Was that the way you became around thirty-five, if you couldn’t stay blind to the world and the people in it?
The party became more boisterous, and the innuendoes grew warmer and less attired, and the chorus girls sat beside Kossler and Simmonds and exchanged kissing and impolite embraces that were not quite direct. Donovan had his head on Madge Gowan’s shoulder, while she caressed his hair. Blanche, who was standing beside the phonograph, with Campbell’s arm around her waist, felt confused, and merrily indifferent to everything except the unsteady exaltation in her body and the singing carelessness of her emotions. As she had done so many times before, she made an effort to pull herself together and resume some portion of her secret wariness, but the effort was a weak one, this time, and her “silly,” lightly unarmored feelings persisted and grew stronger.
“Let’s leave, Joe dear, I’m so-o-o diz-z-zy,” she said.
“Sit down a while, you’ll feel better,” he replied, leading her to the couch.
The two chorus girls departed with Kossler and Simmonds, after a loudly gay mêlée of words had flown back and forth, and Blanche, by this time, was too limp and dazed to bid them good-bye. When Donovan returned from the front door, Blanche had slumped back upon the couch, and Campbell said: “Darned if she hasn’t passed out, Jack.”
Donovan grinned at his friend.
“We’ll put her on the bed in the spare room and let her sleep it off. I’m going to turn in, now, with Madge. Don’t do anything your mother wouldn’t approve of, Joe.”
Madge Gowan rose and looked steadily at Campbell.
“How about leaving the poor kid alone, to-night?” she asked.
“Don’t be foolish, she’s ’n old flame uh mine,” Campbell answered. “We’ve been crazy about each other for more than two years now.”