The stag line is
a most homogeneous mass of men. It fairly sways with a single soul.
A dark-haired beauty dances by and there is a half-gasping sound as the
ripple surges forward and some one sleeker than the rest darts out and
cuts in. Then when the six-foot girl (brought by Kaye in your class,
and to whom he has been trying to introduce you all evening) gallops by,
the line surges back and the groups face about and become intent on far
corners of the hall, for Kaye, anxious and perspiring, appears elbowing
through the crowd in search of familiar faces.
"I say, old man, I've got an awfully nice--"
"Sorry, Kaye, but I'm set for this one. I've got to cut in on a fella."
"Well, the next one?"
"What--ah--er--I swear I've got to go cut in--look me up when she's got a
dance free."
It delighted Amory when Isabelle suggested that they leave for a while
and drive around in her car. For a delicious hour that passed too soon
they glided the silent roads about Princeton and talked from the surface
of their hearts in shy excitement. Amory felt strangely ingenuous and
made no attempt to kiss her.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144