“My dance, Miss Janet,” he announced. A quick denial sprang to her lips, only to be checked by the quiet confidence of his manner. Tom encountered von Valkenberg’s astonished stare over her shoulder, and addressed him directly. “Sorry, Baron, to disappoint you, but Miss Janet promised me this dance some time ago; come,” and with care he assisted Janet down the few steps leading to the floor.
So congested was the dancing that after circling the room once Tom stopped his partner near the entrance to the small ballroom and led her inside it.
“Suppose we sit over there,” he said pointing to some chairs at the farther corner of the room. “There is no pleasure in dancing with such a mob on the floor.”
“It’s much cooler here,” volunteered Janet, a few minutes later, breaking a pause which threatened to become awkward.
“Yes,” absently.
Janet glanced askance at Tom. She had longed to see him, and now that he was by her side, she was tongue-tied. She knew that every instant spent in Tom’s society would arouse Barnard’s jealous rage, but forbidden fruit was sweet.
“Why did you boast of our motor trip to Hyattsville?” she blurted out.
“I, boast of it? I never mentioned it to a soul!” If she had exploded a firecracker before Tom, he could not have been more astounded. “I swear I never told anyone,” he added, with vigor, and her aching heart was comforted.
“I believe you,” she answered, with such trust kindling her shy regard that Tom hitched his chair closer to her side.
“Did you really think I had betrayed your precious confidence in me?” Janet shook her head.