Bojo found Doris in the corner of the ballroom assiduously surrounded by a black-coated hedge of young men. He had a moment's thrill at the sight of her, radiant and dazzling with every art of dressmaker and hairdresser, revealed in a sinuous arrangement of black chiffon with mysterious sudden sheens of gold. She came to him at once, expectancy in her eyes; and the thought that this prize was his, that hundreds would watch them as they stood together, acknowledging his right, gave him a sudden swift sense of power and conquest.
"I was with your father," he said, in explanation, "to witness some papers. Say, Doris, how every woman here must hate you to-night!"
"It's all for you," she said, delighted. "Dance with me. Tell me what happened. There's been a dreadful row, I know, for days. Mother and father haven't spoken except in public, and Dolly's been moping."
"It was something about the settlements. Your father was white-hot all right."
"We won't have more than a round or two," she said. "I've kept what I could for you—the supper dance, of course. Every one is here!"
"I should say so. Your mother is smiling all over. She even favored me. Look out, though, Doris—she'll begin on you."
"'Just you wait; you're going to be one of the big men some day!'"
"Don't worry, Bojo," she said in a whisper, with a little pressure of his arm. She was quite excited by the brilliance of the throng, at her own personal triumph and the good looks of her partner. "I want something I can make myself, and we'll do it too. Just you wait, you're going to be one of the big men one of these days, and we'll have our house and our parties—finer than this, too!"