It appeared that he had heard of Harkless, as well as the Carlow editor of

him. They had a few moments of shop, and he talked to Harkless as a

brother craftsman, without the offense of graciousness, and spoke of his

pleasure in the meeting and of his relief at Harkless's recovery, for,

aside from the mere human feeling, the party needed him in Carlow--even if

he did not always prove himself "quite a vehement partisan." Macauley

laughed. "But I'm not doing my duty," he said presently; "I was to present

you to the pretty ones only, I believe. Will you designate your preferred

fashion of beauty? We serve all styles."

"Thank you," the other answered, hurriedly. "I met a number last night--

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quite a number, indeed." He had seen them only in dim lights, however, and

except Miss Hinsdale and the widower, had not the faintest recognition of

any of them, and he cut them all, except those two, one after the other,

before the evening was over; and this was a strange thing for a politician

to do; but he did it with such an innocent eye that they remembered the

dark porch and forgave him.

"Shall we watch the dancing, then?" asked Macauley. Harkless was already

watching part of it.

"If you will. I have not seen this sort for more than five years."

"It is always a treat, I think, and a constant proof that the older school

of English caricaturists didn't overdraw."

"Yes; one realizes they couldn't."

Harkless remembered Tom Meredith's fine accomplishment of dancing; he had

been the most famous dancer of college days, and it was in the dancer that

John best saw his old friend again as he had known him, the light lad of

the active toe. Other couples flickered about the one John watched,

couples that plodded, couples that bobbed, couples that galloped, couples

that slid, but the cousins alone passed across the glistening reflections

as lightly as October leaves blown over the forest floor. In the midst of

people who danced with fixed, glassy eyes, or who frowned with

determination to do their duty or to die, and seemed to expect the latter,

or who were pale with the apprehension of collision, or who made visible

their anxiety to breathe through the nose and look pleased at the same

time, these two floated and smiled easily upon life. Three or four steep

steps made the portly and cigarette-smoking Meredith pant like an old man,

but a dance was a cooling draught to him. As for the little Marquise--when

she danced, she danced away with all those luckless hearts that were not

hers already. The orchestra launched the jubilant measures of the deux-

temps with a torrent of vivacity, and the girl's rhythmic flight answered

like a sail taking the breeze.




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