"But it was my fault."
"Oh, no it wasn't. I can't dance worth a cent, and I know it."
This was true; Cecily couldn't. She leaned too heavily, and moved too reluctantly, and grasped her partner's hand too tight. Still
"You shouldn't have told me," Jock said. "I wouldn't have guessed it. I'm such a hell of a dancer myself, I always think I'm responsible and take the blame as a matter of course."
They danced on, and on, and on. No one cut in. No one even seemed to so much as look in their direction. Jock became alarmed. Good Lord, was he going to have to dance with her all evening? She was a nice little thing and he was sorry for her, sorry as the devil, but even charity should have an end somewhere. He strove to locate Dopey and finally spied him, suspiciously red of face, whirling about with Gloria Martin in his arms. Even while Jock watched, someone else took possession of Gloria, and Dopey, without a thought of his own responsibility, cut in promptly on another girl, The nerve of him! . . . Molly, Jock saw, was well taken care of. Men were cutting in on her with clock-like regularity.
"You're not listening!" complained Cecily's voice in his ear.
"I—pardon me! What was it you said?"
"I asked you to take me to the dressing room. I think my stocking's coming down"
He conducted her outside to the dressing room in the corridor, and left her at the door. "Don't wait, please," she said. "Please don't wait, I'll find Dopey all right when I come back in."
Jock went blithely back and sought out Molly, who scoffed at him: "I saw you! I saw you playing nurse-
