The glance was his dismissal and he knew it.
"If I must give you up," he said cheerfully, at his ease, "please pronounce sentence." "I am afraid you really must, Mr.Dysart." There was another interval of constraint; then Dysart spoke.

His self-possession was admirable, his words perfectly chosen, his exit in faultless taste.
They looked after him until he was lost to view in the throngs beyond, then the girl slowly reseated herself, eyes again fixed on the water, hands clasped tightly upon her knee, and Duane found a place at her elbow.

So they began a duet of silence.
The little wavelets came dancing shoreward out of the darkness, breaking with a thin, splashing sound against the shale at their feet.

Somewhere in the night a restless heron croaked and croaked among the willows.
"Well, little girl ?" he asked at last.
"Well ?" she inquired, with a calmness that did not mislead him.
"I couldn't come to you after the third dance," he said.
"Why ?" He evaded the question: "When I came back to the glade the dancing was already over; so I got Kathleen and Naida to save a table." "Where had you been all the while ?" "If you really wish to know," he said pleasantly, "I was talking to Jack Dysart on some rather important matters.

I did not realise how the time went." She sat mute, head lowered, staring out across the dark water.