of the coquettish Señorita Perfecta and whirled her from the very embrace of her Mexican partner.
Inspired by the cook's example, the L.X. outfit, as though moved by a common impulse, each seized in his arms the woman nearest and followed the cook in a dizzy whirl. Fat señoras, feeling themselves once more objects of conquest, laid their heads quite contentedly upon broad American breasts, which position it is tacitly conceded is infinitely preferable to hanging a chin over a five-foot shoulder.
The violin shrieked, the guitar whanged, the accordion wheezed its loudest; whirling skirts displayed ankles not too slender, and the dust rose in clouds, while glowering husbands and lovers but added piquancy to the situation.
"Looks to me like we ought to git them guns." Mossy Green's finger-tips barely met in the singular hold he had about Doña Marianna Apedaca's ample waist.
"Don't bother me," panted Clarence, as he spun by rolling his eyes in ecstasy, "I haven't time."
