He left him wrangling with Caraher, who still persisted in adding chartreuse, and stepped out into the dance to see how things were getting on.
It was the interval between two dances.

In and around a stall at the farther end of the floor, where lemonade was being served, was a great throng of young men.

Others hurried across the floor singly or by twos and threes, gingerly carrying overflowing glasses to their "partners," sitting in long rows of white and blue and pink against the opposite wall, their mothers and older sisters in a second dark-clothed rank behind them.

A babel of talk was in the air, mingled with gusts of laughter.

Everybody seemed having a good time.