"I'm afraid," she began dubiously, "that—No; here's one just before supper. If you haven't that—"
"No: I haven't," said Hal hastily. "It's awfully good of you—and lucky for me."
"I'll be with Mrs. Willard," said the girl, nodding him a cheerful farewell.
Just what or who his partners for the next few dances were, Hal could not by any effort recall the next day. He was conscious, on the floor, only of an occasional glimpse of her, a fugitive savor of the wildwood fragrance, and then she had disappeared.
Later, as he returned from a talk with Festus Willard outside, he became aware of the challenge of deep-hued, velvety eyes, regarding him with a somewhat petulant expression, and recognized his acquaintance of the motor car and the railroad terminal.
"You'd forgotten me," accused Miss Kathleen Pierce, pouting, as he came to greet her.
Hal's disclaimer had sufficient diplomatic warmth to banish her displeasure. She introduced to him as Dr. Merritt a striking-looking, gray-haired young man, who had come up at the same time with an anticipatory expression. This promptly vanished when she said offhandedly to him:
"You've had three dances with me already, Hugh. I'm going to give this one to Mr. Surtaine if he wants it."
"Of course I want it," said Hal.
"Not that you deserve it," she went on. "You should have come around earlier. I'm not in the habit of giving dances this late in the evening."