"Good," was his delighted comment, and after that he danced with a heart as light as his heels.
When the music stopped, Duke Duffield made his way toward them. "Oh, look here," he said to his sister; "why didn't you present me sooner to Miss Dolce? Gee, Sara, she's some dream—and her dance card was filled before I could get to it."
Justin smiled at this slangy confirmation of his own opinion. He drifted presently through the room, looking for Bettina, and just as the music began again its rhythmical beat he saw her.
Far at the other end of the room she was dancing with Anthony Blake!
Bettina had never been so happy. Anthony's coming had pleased her. He had half promised that he might come, but there had been, as always, the possibility in the background that he would be kept away by some inconsiderate patient. But now he was here, and she was to have her next dance with Justin. Could anything be lovelier than to spend her evening thus between lover and friend, having Anthony's strength and kindliness to make her feel secure, and Justin's glowing youth to match her own.
She decided that when she and Anthony were alone she would tell him about the race in the storm, and about her friendly compact with Justin. She was never going to keep anything from Anthony. Why, he was the best man in the whole wide world—the very best.
She looked up at him with her eyes like stars and he, meeting that radiant glance, asked, "Are you happy, child?"
She blushed and nodded. "Very, very happy!"
And after that she danced in dreamy silence until Justin came for her.
At supper, Anthony claimed Bettina as a matter of course, leaving Mrs. Martens to Justin. The four of them, with Bobbie and Doris and Sara and her brother ate at a little table on the club-house porch. In the pale light of the lanterns Bettina's beauty was more than ever ethereal.