It made little difference whether the dance calls were obeyed after that.
Fairchild was making up for all the years he had plodded, all the years in which he had known nothing but a slow, grubbing life, living them all again and rightly, in the few swift moments of a dance.
The music ended, and laughing they returned to the side of the hall.
Out of the haze he heard words, and knew indistinctly that they were his own: "Will--will you dance with me again tonight ?" "Selfish!" she chided.
"But will you ?" For just a moment her eyes grew serious.
"Did you ever realize that we 've never been introduced ?" Fairchild was finding more conversation than he ever had believed possible.
"No--but I realize that I don't care--if you 'll forgive it.
I--believe that I 'm a gentleman." "So do I--or I would n't have danced with you." "Then please--" "Pardon me." She had laid a hand on his arm for just a moment, then hurried away.

Fairchild saw that she was approaching young Rodaine, scowling in the background.

That person shot an angry remark at her as she approached and followed it with streaming sentences.

Fairchild knew the reason.

Jealousy! Couples returning from the dance floor jostled against him, but he did not move.