It will interest you." "The only thing that has any interest at the moment is dancing," said Oldershaw loudly.

"By the way, you don't happen to be a member of the club, do you, Mr.Palgrave ?" With consummate impudence Palgrave caught his eye and made a sort of policeman gesture.

"Run away, my lad," he said, "run away and amuse yourself." He almost asked for death.
With a thick mutter that sounded like "My God," Oldershaw balanced himself to hit, his face the color of a beet-root,--and instantly Joan was on her feet between them with a hand on the boy's chest.
"No murder here," she said, "please!" "Murder!" echoed Palgrave, scoffing.
"Yes, murder.

Can't you see that this boy could take you and break you like a dry twig?
Let's go back, all three of us.

We don't want to become the center of a sight-seeing crowd." And she took an arm of each shaking man and went across the drive to where the car was parked.
And so the danger moment was evaded,--young Oldershaw warm with pride, Palgrave sullen and angry.