"I know enough about you for a while; I have learned that you are a very wonderful young man and that I'm inclined to like you. You will come to see me, won't you?... No, I can't remain here another second. I want to go to Kathleen. I want you to ask her to dance, too.... Please don't urge me, Duane. I—this is my first dinner dance—yes, my very first. And I don't intend to sit in corners—I wish to dance; I desire to be happy. I want to see lots and lots of men, not just one.... You don't know all the lonely years I must make up for every minute now, or you wouldn't look at me in such a sulky, bullying way.... Besides—do you think I find you a compensation for all those delightful people out yonder?"
He glanced up and saw Dysart still watching them. Suddenly he dropped his hand over hers.
"Perhaps you may find that compensation in me some day," he said. "How do you know?"
"What a silly thing to say! Don't paw me, Duane; you hurt my hand. Look at what you've done to my fan!"
"It came between us. I'm sorry for anything that comes between us."
Both were smiling fixedly; he said nothing for a moment; their gaze endured until she flinched.
"Silly," she said, "you are trying to tyrannise over me as you did when we were children. I remember now——"
"You did the bullying then."
"Did I? Then I'll continue."
"No, you won't; it's my turn."