During the third dance, well on towards midnight, he plucked up courage enough to leave the faded ladies and claim Gin for a dance. She was in high spirits. He had watched her from across the floor; now that she was in his arms breathing in his face he understood better why she was so excited. Corn liquor, probably. They went twice around the room without speaking.
"Are you having a good time?" she asked him then. "You look glum."
"Oh I do," she said. "I love crowds, don't you? Everybody in the world is here. Even from Taos. It's simply marvelous. Have you seen Phil? Isn't he rare?"
He glanced at her obliquely and decided that she was pretending. No one could be enjoying it, really. Everyone was trying too hard, as they always did in crowds. He was depressed. Merry-making always seemed to leave him out. Was it his own fault? Of course the wags were busy, being clownish. Clowns were always too busy to think about enjoyment itself. Why couldn't he be like that? If he could even stop thinking about himself it would be more comfortable, but he couldn't. No one ever could. Mary couldn't, or Teddy.
The dance was ended; she took his arm and started to lead him from the room.
"Where are we going?" he asked suspiciously.
"Out to the car. I want a drink, don't you? Harvey's waiting."
"No. If you don't mind, I won't come along." He was afraid of Harvey; afraid that he would be in the way. Harvey had danced with Gin held very close, in a very proprietary manner.
She tugged at him. "Come along. You don't have to drink if you don't want to, but please come on. Please. I hate sitting out there alone with him."
That settled it and he stopped short. "No," he said flatly. "No I won't."
She cried out impatiently and began to argue, as he knew she would. But whatever she was saying, he did not hear; he was suddenly listening to another voice behind him, that struck him with terror.
"There's Blake Lennard," he heard, and knew it was Maria. "Oh Blake! turn around."
He obeyed, but he was very fearful. Maria was hanging to the arm of Mrs. Lyons, and she was dressed magnificently in a Spanish dress of black lace. Inherited, probably. She narrowed her eyes as she smiled and he thought nervously that she looked like the--was it basilisk or obelisk? Mrs. Lyons, always stupid, now beamed at them maternally as Maria seized his free arm. Maria ignored Gin completely. "Aren't you going to dance with me?" she asked him.