Then she took the edges of her silken gown between thumb and forefinger, and slowly, very slowly, sank low with flushed cheeks, sweeping him an old-time curtsey.
"I—I wish you a Merry Christmas," she said.... "And thank you for your wish.... And you may take me down, now"—rising to her slim and lovely height—"and I think we had better dance as hard as we can and try to forget what our families are likely to think of what we've done.... Don't you?"
"Yes," he said seriously, "I do."
"And that's what comes of running after trains, and talking to fat conductors, and wearing chinchilla furs, and flouting the Mystic Three!" added Williams throwing away his cigar.
