When the music stopped Ramon left the hall for the hotel lobby, where he
soothed his sensibilities with a small brown cigarette of his own making.
In one of the swinging benches covered with Navajo blankets two other
dress-suited youths were seated, smoking and talking. One of them was a
short, plump Jew with a round and gravely good-natured face; the other a
tall, slender young fellow with a great mop of curly brown hair, large
soft eyes and a sensitive mouth.
“She’s good looking, all right,” the little fellow assented, as Ramon came
up.
“Good looking!” exclaimed the other with enthusiasm. “She’s a little
queen! Nothing like her ever hit this town before.”
“Who’s all the excitement about?” Ramon demanded, thrusting himself into
the conversation with the easy familiarity which was his right as one of
“the bunch.”
Sidney Felberg turned to him in mock amazement.
“Good night, Ramon! Where have you been? Asleep? We’re talking about Julia
Roth, same as everybody else.…”
“Who’s she?” Ramon queried coolly, discharging a cloud of smoke from the
depths of his lungs. “Never heard of her.”
“Well, she’s our latest social sensation … sister of some rich lunger that
recently hit town; therefore very important. But that’s not the only
reason. Wait till you see her.”
“All right; introduce me to her,” Ramon suggested.
“Go on; knock him down to the lady,” Sidney proposed to his companion.
“No, you,” Conny demurred. “I refuse to take the responsibility. He’s too
good looking.”
“All right,” Sidney assented. “Come on. It’s the only way I can get a look
at her anyway—introducing somebody else. A good-looking girl in this town
can start a regular stampede. We ought to import a few hundred.…”
It was during an intermission. They forced their way through a phalanx of
men brandishing programs and pencils, each trying to bring himself
exclusively to the attention of a small blonde person who seemed to have
some such quality of attractiveness for men as spilled honey has for
insects.
When Ramon saw her he felt as though something inside of him had bumped up
against his diaphragm, taking away his breath for a moment, agitating him
strangely. And he saw an answering surprised recognition in her wide grey
eyes.
“You … you’re the girl on the train,” he remarked idiotically, as he took
her hand.
She turned pink and laughed.
“You’re the man that wouldn’t look up,” she mocked.
“What’s all this about?” demanded Sidney. “You two met before?”
“May I have a dance?” Ramon inquired, suddenly recovering his presence of
mind.
“Let me see … you’re awfully late.” They put their heads close together
over her program. He saw her cut out the name of another man who had two
dances, and then she held her pencil poised.
“Of course I didn’t get your name,” she admitted.
“No; I’ll write it … Was it Carter? Delcasar? Ramon Delcasar. You must be
Spanish. I was wondering … you’re so dark. I’m awfully interested in
Spanish people.…” She wrote the name in a bold, upright, childish hand.
Ramon found that he had lost his mood of discontent after this, and he
entered with zest into the spirit of the dance which was fast losing its
stiff and formal character. Punch and music had broken down barriers. The
hall was noisy with the ringing, high pitched laughter of excitement. It
was warm and filled with an exotic, stimulating odour, compounded of many
perfumes and of perspiration. Every one danced. Young folk danced as
though inspired, swaying their bodies in time to the tune. The old and the
fat danced with pathetic joyful earnestness, going round and round the
hall with red and perspiring faces, as though in this measure they might
recapture youth and slimness if only they worked hard enough. Now and then
a girl sang a snatch of the tune in a clear young voice, full of abandon,
and sometimes others took up the song and it rose triumphant above the
music of the orchestra for a moment, only to be lost again as the singers
danced apart.
Ramon had been looking forward so long and with such intense anticipation
to his dance with Julia Roth that he was a little self-conscious at its
beginning, but this feeling was abolished by the discovery that they could
dance together perfectly. He danced in silence, looking down upon her
yellow head and white shoulders, the odour of her hair filling his
nostrils, forgetful of everything but the sensuous delight of the moment.
This mood of solemn rapture was evidently not shared by her, for presently
the yellow head was thrown back, and she smiled up at him a bit mockingly.
“Just like on the train,” she remarked. “Not a thing to say for yourself.
Are you always thus silent?”
Ramon grinned.
“No,” he countered, “I was just trying to get up the nerve to ask if
you’ll let me come to see you.”
“That doesn’t take much nerve,” she assured him. “Practically every man
I’ve danced with tonight has asked me that. I never had so many dates
before in my life.”
“Well; may I follow the crowd, then?”
“You may,” she laughed. “Or call me up first, and maybe there won’t be any
crowd.”