"Of course you will," he retorted fiercely, tenderly too; and suddenly imprisoning her passive hand lying nearby upon the cloth, he rose, and stepped around to her; and still holding her hand pulled her to her feet. "Of course you will," he went on earnestly, leaning so close that she could catch the odor of his breath. "You don't know what you'll do. You don't know what you want. But I do. I know. Becky, I'm fonder of you than ever to-night. Come!" And he drew her toward the floor.
She could not well resist, not while he held her hand like that, not while his eyes so vehemently insisted. But as she felt his arms surround her, and swing her into the maelstrom of dancers that now crowded the small dancing-space, she felt ashamed.
Round and round he bore her—would the music never stop?—round and round, holding her so close that she feared that the effect of what made his breath smell sweet like that, would be observed by others, and the manner of their dancing become conspicuous. Oh, how could he pull her out to be stared and gaped at? She felt as if she were being dragged through a mire, over and over again, in sight of hundreds of gazing faces, and each time as they passed the noisy corner where the music was placed, she felt as if she were a little less white, a little less clean than the time before.
Reba had not passed twice around the dancing-space with Chadwick Booth before she began scheming how she could escape. The more ashamed she felt, the more necessary it seemed to run and hide herself somewhere. She must get away. She must get away from this man and place as soon as possible. She could not dance with him again. She could not ride back to
