And seeing it, she
gathered up her skirts in her two hands and ran, ran back along the
wall, keeping in the shadows, drawing close about her the dark cloak she
had thrown about her white dress. She must get into the house before
they came in, she must let her face show nothing, she must have time to
think before she spoke with them. So she came to the back door, paused a
brief moment, commanding her nerves to be steady, then slipped in,
letting the cloak fall from her shoulders. She saw Bud King standing
with his back to the wall watching the dancers, and going swiftly to
him, putting her hand lightly upon his arm, she summoned a smile into
her eyes as she cried breathlessly:
"Will you dance this with me?"
Young King looked at her in quick surprise, startled at the nearness of
the girl for whom his eyes had been seeking, and a little flush ran up
into his cheeks, a sparkle of gladness into his eyes.
"Sure," he grinned happily. "I been looking for you, Miss Waverly."
He ran his arm about her, she bent her head a little so that he could
not see the whiteness of her face, and they caught the beat of the
music. She lost the step, purposely that she might have a little more
time before they pass down the room toward Pollard and Broderick,
hesitated, taking her time to catch it, laughed at his apology for the
mistake, noted that her own laugh sounded free and natural, caught the
step, and swirled away into the crowd, daring now to look up laughingly
into Bud's face unmindful of the havoc she was working in his soul.
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