The Manila Kid adjusted the needle and released the catch.
“I'm sorry,” said Doane, as they moved away, “I don't dance.”
The commonplace remark fell strangely on his own ears. It could hardly be himself speaking. He was all glowingly warm with impulse, his logic gone.
“We'll sit it out,” said Miss Hui pleasantly.
And during the brief walk across the room, beside this buoyantly graceful girl, even while aware of the eyes upon him, he felt the magic wine of youth thrilling through his arteries. What a fairy she was! Snatches of poetry came; one—=
"Were it ever so airy a tread...."=
—and lingered fragrantly after they were seated and he found himself looking down at her, listening with something of the gravity and kindliness of long habit when she so quickly spoke.