But not for more than fifty seconds.

There was Joan, with her lovely laughing face alight with the joy of movement, held in the arms of the cursed boy.
Between two chairs he went, into and across the room in which he was a trespasser, tapped young Oldershaw sharply on the arm, cut into the dance, and before the boy could recover from his surprise, was out of reach with Joan against his heart.
"Oh, well done, Gilbert," said Joan, a little breathlessly.

"When Marty did that to you at the Crystal Room..." She stopped, and a shadow fell on her face and a little tremble ran across her lips.
Smoking a cigarette on the veranda young Oldershaw waited for the dance to end.

It was encored several times but being a sportsman and having achieved a monopoly of Joan during all the previous dances, he let this man enjoy his turn.

He was a great friend of hers, she had said on the way to the club, and was, without doubt, a very perfect person with his wide-set eyes and well-groomed head, his smooth moustache and the cleft on his chin.