"Not one bit," she asserted. "If you would rather have a good
confidential time here with me than to meet a lot of silly little
girls, then I don't care what people say. But, as I was telling you, I
met him the year I came out, and he was interested in me right off--"
On and on and on she went, and Sandy ceased to struggle. He sank in
his chair in dogged dejection. He felt that she had been talking ever
since he was born, and was going to continue until he died, and that
all he could do was to wait in anguish for the end. He watched the
flushed, happy faces whirling by. How he envied the boys their wilted
collars! After eons and eons of time the band played "Home, Sweet
Home."
"It's the last dance," said she. "Aren't you sorry? We've had a
perfectly divine time--" She got no further, for her partner, faithful
through many numbers, had deserted his post at last.
Sandy pushed eagerly through the crowd and presented himself at Ruth's
side. She was sitting with several boys on the stage steps, her cheeks
flushed from the dance, and a loosened curl falling across her bare
shoulder. He tried to claim his dance, but the words, too long
confined, rushed to his lips so madly as to form a blockade.
She looked up and saw him--saw the longing and doubt in his eyes, and
came to his rescue.
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