visit on his furloughs from the Argonne; but he remembered that Billy had, and reported that all the great paintings had been stored during the war. So Gregg reminded Mrs. Hale of this. She said, "Of course; how stupid of me. It is half-past nine now; and I am saying good night to Mrs. Lovell and I will go to my committee. Tell my daughter, if I do not see her, that I will return home directly from Mrs. Cleve's."
So Gregg saw her to her car and afterwards stayed downstairs and smoked a cigarette, before returning to the dancing floor for his number with Marjorie, because he expected her to be late for that dance, if she appeared at all; and, in fact, he had gone upstairs and the encore was playing before he saw her hurrying in.
"Please forgive me; Billy and I were having a long talk," she admitted frankly, flushed to a warm excitement which made Gregg press his lips tightly, as he put his arm about her and they began to dance.
"Bill's," he repeated to himself. "Or, almost Bill's." He clung to an idea that possibly the long talk between Marjorie and Bill had not come to a conclusion; possibly they had been interrupted; possibly there had seemed more delight in waiting for a consummation at some better time or place; possibly she had been unwilling, even in her happiness, to do him the rudeness of cutting a dance. Gregg seldom had the sensation of dancing with a girl and realizing that she was absorbed in thoughts of some other man; but he now had that experience. "I beg your pardon."
"Oh, it was my fault."
She, who usually danced perfectly, had lost step for the evident reason that Billy, with another girl, had passed.
