"Sprained ankle." How was he to tell her that there had been no chance to learn this dance back in Simsbury, Illinois, where such things were frowned upon by pulpit and press?
The girl resumed her seat, at first with annoyance, then brightened.

"All right at that," she said.

"I bet we get more footage this way." She again became coquettish, luring with her wiles one who remained sunk in ennui.
A whistle blew, a voice called "Save it!" and the lights jarred off.
Henshaw came trippingly down the line.

"You people didn't dance.

What's the matter ?" Merton Gill glanced up, doing a double transition, from dignified surprise to smiling chagrin.