"And he's half soused. The crazy kid!"
Maude seemed to float over the gleaming floor. Alec Mowbray, for all the signs of drink he displayed, was no mean partner. His handsome face, head and shoulders above the tall woman he was dancing with, gazed out over the sea of dancers in all the freshness of his youthful joy, and triumph. He danced well, something he had contrived to learn in the joyless country from which he hailed. But there was no reflection of his joy in the faces of the two men gazing down from the shelter of the curtained box. There were only concern and a grievous regret.
Bill rose with a sigh.
"I quit," he said.
Kars rose, too.
"Yes."
The two men stood for a moment before passing out of the box.
"It looks like that shriek's coming," Bill said. "God help that poor darn fool if Pap and Maude get a hold on him."
"He came down with Murray," Kars said pondering.
"Yes. He ought to have come around with his mam."