maid for four dances straight! I was tickled to death, too—serves you right for trying to be so doggone kind to people!"
"How've you been getting along?" Jock inquired amiably.
"Oh, fine. Didn't miss you at all."
"I saw you had a bevy of customers."
"My feet," announced Molly, "are simply killing me. One more hour of this and I doubt if I'll be able to even limp. The damn new slippers"
"In one more hour," Jock assured her cheerfully, "it'll be about midnight, and the dance will be not quite one-fourth over."
Her moan floated back to him over the shoulder of Pink Davis, who had peremptorily snatched her away.
Jock cut in, successively, on Gloria Martin, on a languid brunette with earrings the size of butter plates, on Norma Knight, on a blonde who was mildly intoxicated, on a theatrical-looking girl who called him "big boy," and on Winky Winters. They all greeted him graciously, and they all said much the same things. Well, it was about time he remembered they were there! They'd been wondering all evening when he was going to look their way. But of course, he'd been so absorbed in that queer little person Dopey Lane brought! . . . Every one of them had noticed him with Cecily, and knew approximately how long he had danced with her. Jock thought this very curious. Being that rara avis, a young man almost entirely without vanity, it did not occur to him that girls would always observe and mentally register all his activities, no matter how many other male beings there might be present.
Half an hour passed before he danced with Molly again. "Jock," she declared then, "I cannot stand it, that's all there is to it! I'll have to go back to
