CHAPTER XXII
WHEN Dr. Booth had said good-night to his dancing-partner, he had had to hunt for her. Reba, as always fearful of ceremonies and formal hand-shakings, had stepped into a shadow when Dr. Booth started to take his departure.
"Oh, there you are!" he had exclaimed, when finally he found her. "I've been looking for you." Then in a low voice, meant for her ears alone, he added, "We must have another dance soon together, mustn't we? I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll get up a little party with Miss Park and Gerard and somebody else, if you'll come. Will you?"
"Oh, I'd like to."
"And," he went on, enthusiastically, "we'll go somewhere to dinner, and then somewhere to dance afterward, where there is some real music. Soon, too! How's next Saturday, a week from to-night, for you?" he asked.
"It is all right for me."
"I'll let you know. Good-night," he said and held out his hand. Reba put hers into it. "Till Saturday then," he smiled, gave her hand a little significant squeeze, dropped it suddenly, turned and hurried away.
Reba didn't sleep very much that night. Her whole world had suddenly taken on a different color. She had seen in a flash what the pleasures of youth were that she had been missing all her life. That half-hour on the marble terrace, underneath the stars, pos-
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