self with a kind of angular grace into the reel, his red tie working up over his collar at the back, under his chin at the front, a stiff crest of blond hair standing upright on his crown. As a pool reflects the image of an eagle, so Delight reflected the darting vigour of Kirke's dance, now one hand on her hip, the other above her head; now twirling interlaced with him. A noisy clapping of hands came from the men in the rear.
To have every eye focused on him, to have this girl imitating his every movement, to know that he was preventing others who had paid their money to dance from dancing was bliss to Kirke. It was better than standing draped against the newel post in the hall at night in everyone's way. He was gloriously happy.
Not till Delight's steps flagged and her breath came in open-mouthed gasps would he signal old Donald to lower his pipes. The bandsmen had left their seats, using the opportunity to get something to drink. Supper was ready in the basement. The smell of coffee and hot meat pasties rose to them up the flag-draped stairway. With a loud burst of talk and laughter the crowd now moved towards the supper-room. Kirke and Delight were engulfed, swept along down the stairs. Girls below threw back envious and inquisitive glances at her.
"Are ye tired?" inquired Kirke.
"A little," she breathed, clinging to him. "Not really tired; just out o' breath."
"You'd soon do it fine. I must give you some lessons. It's ten years since I had a dance like that mysel'."
At the foot of the stairs Jimmy Sykes was standing, anxious and boyish.
"Here's your partner!" said Kirke, abruptly handing her over to him. "You'll find she's a grand appetite for supper. You can wait on her for a change. If he gets a
