It looked like fairyland with the colored lanterns hanging
among the palms and flowers. Somebody else was apparently enjoying the
pretty effect--somebody who turned round rather guiltily as if he were
caught; then at sight of her smiled in relief.
"I thought you were one of my hostesses come to round me up to do my
duty," he confessed. "I'm a duffer at dancing, so I've taken cover in
here. I see you don't remember me, but we've met before--at Red Ridge
Barrow. My name's Broughten."
"Why, of course! You had a piece of candle and showed us inside the
mound. I ought to have known you again, but--you look so different----"
"In evening dress! So do you; but I recognized you in a minute. Look
here" (in sudden compunction), "am I keeping you from a partner?"
"No more than I am keeping you!" twinkled Quenrede, pointing to the
empty line on her program. "I'm not dancing this, so I came here to--to
enjoy myself."
Her companion laughed in swift comprehension.
"I don't know how other people may find it," he confided, "but hour
after hour of this sort of thing gets on my nerves. A tramp over the
moor is far more my line of amusement. I was wishing I might go home!"
"So was I!"
"But there's still at least another hour and a half."
"With extras, more!" admitted Quenrede.
He held out his hand for her program. "I'm an idiot at dancing, but
would you mind sitting out a few with me?"
"If you won't talk about the floor and the decorations and the band, and
ask me whether I've been to the pantomime, or if I like golf!"
"I promise that those topics shall be utterly and absolutely taboo.
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