nd ask her to dance. See what she says."

The Englishman hesitated for a second. "I don't like asking a perfect
stranger to dance," he said.

"Go on," said Gordon, "it's all right. She'll like it."

Carew drew down his cuffs, squared his shoulders, assumed his most
absolutely stolid drawing-room manner, and walked across the room, a
gleaming vision of splendour in his immaculate evening dress.

"May I--er--have the pleasure of this dance?" he said, with elaborate
politeness.

The girl giggled a little, but said nothing, then rose and took his arm.

As she did so, a youth among the talkers at the other end of the room
looked round, and stared for a second. Then he moistened his fingers
with his tongue, smoothed the hair on his temples, and with elbows held
out from his sides, shoulders hunched up, and under-jaw stuck well out,
bore down on Carew and the girl, who were getting under way when he came
up. Taking not the slightest notice of Carew, he touched the girl on the
shoulder with a sharp peremptory tap, and brought their dance to a stop.

"'Ere," he said, in commanding tones. "'Oo are you darncin' with?"

"I'm darncin' with 'im," answered the girl, pertly, indicating the
Englishman with a jerk of her head.

"Ho, you're darncin' with 'im, are you? 'E brought you 'ere, p'r'aps?"

"No, he didn't," she said.

"No," said he. "You know well enough 'e didn't."

While this conversation was going on, the English-man maintained an
attitude of dignified reserve, leaving it to the lady to decide who
was to be the favoured man. At last he felt it was hardly right for
an Oxford man, and a triple blue at that, to be discussed in this
contemptuous way by a larrikin and his "donah," so he broke into the
discussion, perhaps a little abruptly, but using his most polished
style.

"I--ah--asked this lady to dance, and if she--er--will do me the
honour," he said, "I--"

"Oh! you arst 'er to darnce? And what right 'ad you to arst 'er to
darnce, you lop-eared rabbit?" interrupted the larrikin, raising his
voice as he warmed to his subject. "I brought 'er 'ere. I paid the
shillin'. Now then, you take your 'ook," he went on, pointing sternly
to the door, and talking as he would to a disobedient dog. "Go on, now.
Take your 'ook."

The Englishman said nothing, but his jaw set ominously. The girl
giggled, delighted at being the centre of so much observation. The band
stopped playing, and the dancers crowded round. Word was pass