never been questioned," murmured the
Quakeress, bowing dismissal. "So kind of you!"

The devil bowed deeply and turned, pausing to hurl a gloomy prophecy
over his shoulder. "See you later!" he said, and stalked away with an
ill grace.

Pigskin hero and girl Friend, left alone, eyed each other with mutual
apprehension. The girl Friend was first to recover speech. Her red lips
were prim below her vizor, her eyes downcast to hide their dancing
lights. Timidly she spread out fanwise the dove color of her sober
costume.

"How does thee like my gray gown?"

"Not at all," said Jeff brutally. "You're no friend of mine, I hope."

A most un-Quakerlike dimple trembled to her chin, relieving the firm
austerity of straight lips. Also, Jeff caught a glimpse of her eyes
through the vizor. They were crinkling--and they were brown. She
ventured another tentative remark, and there was in it an undertone
lingering, softly confidential.

"Is thee lame?"

"Not--very," said Jeff, and saw a faint color start to the unmasked
moiety of the Quaker cheek. "Still, if I may have the next dance, I
shall be glad if you will sit it out with me." Painfully he raised the
beslinged arm in explanation. _Sobre las Olas_ throbbed out its wistful
call; they set their thought to its haunting measure.

"By all means!" She took his undamaged arm. "Let us find chairs."

Now there were chairs to the left of them, chairs to the right of them,
chairs vacant everywhere; but the gallant Six Hundred themselves were
not more heedless or undismayed than these two. Still, all the world did
not wonder. On the contrary, not even the anxious devil saw them after
they passed behind a knot of would-be dancers who were striving to
disentangle themselves. For, seeing traffic thus blocked, the policeman
rushed to unsnarl the tangle. Magnificently he flourished his stick. He
adjured them roughly: "Move on, yous! Move on!" Whereat, with one
impulse, the tangle moved on the copper, swept over him, engulfed him,
hustled him to the door and threw him out.

So screened, the chair-hunters vanished in far less than a psychological
moment: for Jeff, in obedience to a faint or fancied pressure on his
arm, dived through portieres into a small room set apart for such as had
the heart to prefer cards or chess. The room was deserted now and there
was a broad window open to the night. Thus, thrice favored of
Providence, they found themselves in the garden, chairless but cheerful.