"No, not many. Just a few people we are under obligations to."
"How late did you stay?" Mrs. Porter asked, as she passed him his second cup of coffee.
"About midnight, I think."
"Oh, where were you after that? You didn't get home until after one."
"M'm, my, this coffee's hot! One? Did you say one? The clock must have been striking half-past eleven."
"No, I am sure it was after one, because I laid awake for a while and heard it strike two."
"May be you are right. I did not look. But lots of people were still there when I left. Do you like the two-step better than the waltz?"
"Yes, I do. But that was on Sunday—after twelve o'clock. Weren't you ashamed to dance on Sunday?"
"I think I like the waltz better. The waltz is to the two-step what the minuet is to the jig. Don't you think so now? Young Mrs. Black is a splendid waltzer. Next to you, she is about the best."
"Well, I do not care to be compared with her. And I hope you didn't dance with her. She, divorced and married again, and not twenty-four yet!"