It was Hank Peterson, who led her forth, and who, after the occasion was over, wished he had not done so, for his wife sat till the last upon the row.

Seeing this awful thing happen, seeing the hand of Nora laid upon another's arm, Sam sat up as one deeply smitten with a hurt.

Then, silently, unobserved in the confusion, he stole away from the fateful scene and betook himself to his stable, where he fell violently to currying one of the horses.
"Oh, kick!" he exclaimed, getting speech in these surroundings.

"Kick! I deserve it.

Of all the low-down, d----n cowards that ever was borned I sure am the worst! But the gall of that feller Peterson! An' him a merried man!" When Sam left the ballroom there remained no person who was able to claim acquaintance with the little group who now sat under the shadow of the swinging lamp at the lower end of the hall, and farthest from the door.