one that Leila Grey's attention
was upon. Did you not hear that?"

"Who? Barry?"

"Has he not," said the girl desperately, "become recently more desirable
to her--more rich, perhaps----"

"That play didn't make him anything, that's sure," the young man
meditated. "But seems to me I did hear--something about an uncle
shuffling off and leaving him a few thous. . . . Maybe he left enough to
buy Leila a supper."

"Here are the English words." Maria Angelina spread the music open
before them. "Mrs. Blair was joking with him," she reverted, "because he
was not going to that York Harbor this summer where this Leila Grey was.
But perhaps he has gone, after all?"

"Search me," said Johnny negligently. "I'm not his keeper."

"But you would know if he is coming to the dance at the Martins--that
dance next week----?"

"He isn't coming to the house party, he's not invited. He and Bob aren't
anything chummy at all. Barry trains in an older crowd. . . . Seems to
me," said Johnny, turning to look at her out of bright blue eyes,
"you're awf'ly interested in this Barry Elder thing. Did you say you met
him in New York?"

"I met him--yes," said Maria Angelina, in a steady little voice,
beginning suddenly to play. "And I thought it was so romantic--about him
and this Leila Grey. She was so beautiful and he had been so brave in
the war. And so I wondered----"

"Well, don't you wonder about who's coming to that dance. That dance is
_mine_," said Johnny definitely. "I want you to look your darndest--put
it all over those flappers. Show them what you got," admonished Johnny
with the simple directness in such vogue.

"And now come on, Ri-Ri--let's get into this together.

'I cannot now forget you
And you think not of me!'

_Come_ on, Maria Angelina!"

And Maria Angelina, her face lifted, her eyes strangely bright, sang,
while Johnny Byrd stared fixedly down at her, angrily, defiantly, sang
to that unseen young man--back in the shadows----

"I cannot now forget you
And you think not of me!"

And then she told herself that she would forget him very well indeed.

CHAPTER V

BETWEEN DANCES

There had been distinct proprietorship in Johnny's reference to the
dance, a hint of possessive admonition, a shade of anxiety to which
Maria Angelina was not insensitive.

He wanted her to excel. His pride was calling, unconsciously, upon her,
to justify his choice. The dance was an exhibition . . . competit