Ruth shook her head.  She was exhilarated, excited, tense, happy.  She could dance—­she could.  It was as easy and natural as breathing.  She did not want to stop.  She wanted to go on and on.  Then suddenly something snapped.  They came opposite Sue and Larry.  The former called a gay greeting and approval.  Larry said nothing.  His face was dead white, his gray eyes black with anger.  Both Ted and Ruth saw and understood and the lilt went out of the dance for both of them.

“Oh Lord!” groaned Ted.  “Now I’ve done it.  I’m sorry, Ruth.  I didn’t suppose the old man would care.  Don’t see why he should it you are willing.  Come on, just one more round before the music stops and we’re both beheaded.”

But Ruth shook her head.  There was no more joy for her after that one glimpse of Larry’s face.

“Take me to a seat, Ted, please.  I’m tired.”

He obeyed and she sank down in the chair, white and trembling, utterly exhausted.  She was hurt and aching through and through.  How could she?  How could she have done that to Larry when he loved her so?  How could she have let Ted make her dance with him when she had refused to dance with Larry?  No wonder he was angry.  It was terrible—­cruel.

But he mustn’t make a scene with Ted.  He mustn’t.  She cast an apprehensive glance around the room.  Larry was invisible.  A forlornness came over her, a despair such as she had never experienced even in that dreadful time after the wreck when she realized she had forgotten everything.  She felt as if she were sinking down, down in a fearful black sea and that there was no help for her anywhere.  Larry had deserted her.  Would he never come back?

In a minute Tony and the others were beside her, full of sympathetic questions.  How had it seemed to dance again?  Wasn’t it great to find she could still do it?  How had she dared to do it while Larry was off guard?  Why wouldn’t she, couldn’t she dance with this one or that one if she could dance with Ted Holiday?  But they were quick to see she was really tired and troubled and soon left her alone to Tony’s ministrations.

“Ruth, what is the trouble?  Where is Larry?  And Ted is gone, too.  What happened?” Tony’s voice was anxious.  She hadn’t seen Larry’s face, but she knew Larry and could guess at the rest.

“Ted made me dance with him.  I didn’t mean to.  But when we got started I couldn’t bear to stop, it was so wonderful to do it and to find I could.  I—­am afraid Larry didn’t like it.”

“I presume he didn’t,” said Larry’s sister drily.  “Let him be angry if he wants to be such a silly.  It was quite all right, Ruthie.  Ted has just as much right to dance with you as Larry has.”

“I am afraid Larry doesn’t think so and I don’t think so either.”

Tony squeezed the other girl’s hand.

“Never mind, honey.  You mustn’t take it like that.  You are all of a tremble.  Larry has a fearful temper, but he will hang on to it for your sake if for no other reason.  He won’t really quarrel with Ted.  He never does any more.  And he won’t say a word to you.”