But, somehow, I wouldn't have changed, just then, if I could have done so.

That, also, is something I'm not psychologist enough to explain.
That last waltz with Miss King was like to prove disastrous, for we swished uncomfortably close to her father, standing scowling at Frosty and some of the others of our crowd near the door.

Luckily, he didn't see us, and at the far end Miss King stopped abruptly.

Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes looked up at me--wistfully, I could almost say.
"I think, Mr.Carleton, we had better stop," she said hesitatingly.

"I don't believe your enmity is so ungenerous as to wish to cause me unpleasantness.