He drew the strap tight, dug his hands into his gloves again, and with a nod flashed back into the crowd. Beauty, gulping down something that rose in his throat, started aimlessly to skirt the edge of the pond. He had understood the look that Wash had given him in that swift moment.
In this abstracted mood, he suddenly came against something angular and small that accompanied him to the ice with a resounding whack.
"Clumsy beast!" said a sharp voice.
From his embarrassed position, Beauty recognised the Red Dog.
"Excuse me, Red Dog," he said hastily; "I didn't see you."
"Why, it's Beauty," said the Red Dog, rubbing himself. "Blast you! all the same."
"I say, Red Dog," said Beauty, "have you any dances left?"
"All gone, Beauty," answered Red Dog, stooping suddenly to recover his skate.
"Nothing left?"
"Nope—filled the last extra to-day," said Red Dog, with the shining face of prevarication. Then he added, "Why, Venus, are you going to the Prom?"