“I’m afraid you’re jealous of Mr. Balcomb. He got more applause than anybody.”
“He deserved all he got for making such a monkey of himself.”
“He’s a man of courage; he probably thought he could afford to do it.”
“All of that?” said Pollock.
“A rising young man,” continued Zelda.
“A person, I should say, of most egregious and monumental gall,”—and Zelda laughed at his earnestness. She had not heard Balcomb’s remark about her cousin, but she knew he had said something that irritated Pollock. The young officer left her quickly when Leighton came up for the dance that had now begun.
Pollock found Balcomb in a moment. The promoter was standing at the side of the hall, his eyes nervously searching for a girl with whom he had engaged the dance.
“Mr. Balcomb,” said Pollock at his elbow, “may I speak to you a moment?”
“Certainly,” said Balcomb, in his usual amiable fashion. “Only I’m engaged for this dance and have lost my partner.”
“That’s my own fix,” declared Pollock, “but my errand is brief. Let us step out here.”