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 Mackinac, sustained Diana Dewitt when she returned to the floor.

Jello was not dancing. He had one-stepped and done his dervish whirl, again, with Irene, but the act had not gone so big at its repetition and he had not thrown Irene. Jello was tired and he rested for refreshment with Irene in his palm-screened nook.

Di, scouting, caught a view and tactfully postponed her intrusion, accepting an invitation to foxtrot from Methuselah who, favoring his left ankle, rejoined the fray.

Under the conditions, Meth was not a bad dancer; but he talked about his children in Wisconsin and explained, twice, that he was a widower—thereby proving, if further testimony were needed, that he was new to a party. It took very little indeed to make him feel hopelessly compromised.

He kissed Di, clumsily and with an air of rising to expectations, when they went to their nook, and he was so fussed that she sat further from him and held his hand, merely to tell his fortune. He was going to make a business change, she assured him, which would bring him prosperity and peace of mind.

Meth agreed that he was making a change; he said plainly that he was giving his business to the Slengels. He liked Art for helping him from the floor; besides Art had told him not to worry about the sprained wrist of his partner. Slengels would take care of it.

Di saw in his old eyes fear of his reputation in his little town. Suppose the girl followed him to sue him for the sprain or other injuries. His account was in the bin, and