l event in Hugh's life. He had
worn evening clothes only a few times before, but those occasions,
fraternity banquets and glee club concerts, were, he felt, relatively
unimportant. The dance, however, was different, and he felt that he must
look his best, his very "smoothest." He was a rare undergraduate; he
owned everything necessary to wear to an evening function--at least,
everything an undergraduate considered necessary. He did not own a
dress-suit, and he would have had no use for it if he had; only Tuxedos
were worn.

He dressed with great care, tying and retying his tie until it was
knotted perfectly. When at last he drew on his jacket, he looked himself
over in the mirror with considerable satisfaction. He knew that he was
dressed right.

It hardly entered his mind that he was an exceedingly good-looking young
man. Vanity was not one of his faults. But he had good reason to be
pleased with the image he was examining for any sartorial defects. He
had brushed his sandy brown hair until it shone; his shave had left his
slender cheeks almost as smooth as a girl's; his blue eyes were very
bright and clear; and the black suit emphasized his blond cleanness: it
was a wholesome-looking, attractive youth who finally pulled on his
top-coat and started happily across the campus for the Nu Delta house.

The dance was just starting when he arrived. The patronesses were in the
library, a small room off the living-room. Hugh learned later that six
men had been delegated to keep the patronesses in the library and
adequately entertained. The men worked in shifts, and although the dance
lasted until three the next morning, not a patroness got a chance to
wander unchaperoned around the house.

The living-room of the Nu Delta house was so large that it was
unnecessary to use the dining-room for a dance. Therefore, most of the
big chairs and divans had been moved into the dining-room--and the
dining-room was dark.

Hugh permitted himself to be presented to the patronesses, mumbled a few
polite words, and then joined the stag line, waiting for a chance to cut
in. Presently a couple moved slowly by, so slowly that they did not seem
to move at all. The girl was Hester Sheville, and Hugh had been
introduced to her in the afternoon. Despite rather uneven features and
red hair, she was almost pretty; and in her green evening gown, which
was cut daringly low, she was flashing and attractive.

Hugh stepped forward and tapped her part