"Search me," said Johnny negligently. "I'm not his keeper."
"But you would know if he is coming to the dance at the Martins--that dance next week----?"
"He isn't coming to the house party, he's not invited. He and Bob aren't anything chummy at all. Barry trains in an older crowd. . . . Seems to me," said Johnny, turning to look at her out of bright blue eyes, "you're awf'ly interested in this Barry Elder thing. Did you say you met him in New York?"
"I met him--yes," said Maria Angelina, in a steady little voice, beginning suddenly to play. "And I thought it was so romantic--about him and this Leila Grey. She was so beautiful and he had been so brave in the war. And so I wondered----"
"Well, don't you wonder about who's coming to that dance. That dance is _mine_," said Johnny definitely. "I want you to look your darndest--put it all over those flappers. Show them what you got," admonished Johnny with the simple directness in such vogue.
"And now come on, Ri-Ri--let's get into this together.
'I cannot now forget you And you think not of me!'
And Maria Angelina, her face lifted, her eyes strangely bright, sang, while Johnny Byrd stared fixedly down at her, angrily, defiantly, sang to that unseen young man--back in the shadows----
"I cannot now forget you And you think not of me!"
And then she told herself that she would forget him very well indeed.
There had been distinct proprietorship in Johnny's reference to the dance, a hint of possessive admonition, a shade of anxiety to which Maria Angelina was not insensitive.
He wanted her to excel. His pride was calling, unconsciously, upon her, to justify his choice. The dance was an exhibition . . . competition. It was the open market . . . appraisal. . . .
No matter how charming she might be in the motor rides with the four, how pretty and piquant in the afternoon at the piano, how melodious in the evenings upon the steps, the full measure of his admiration was not exacted.
Sagely she surmised this. Anxiously she awaited the event.
It was her first real dance. It was her first American affair. Casually, in the evenings at the Lodge, they had danced to the phonograph and she had been initiated into new steps and amazed at the manner of them, but there had been nothing of the slightest formality.