“Who’s the ‘spade,’ Alvar?” Geraldine had seen him stop to talk to her.
“Damned if I know.”
“Aw, sure you know who she is. You danced with her at Small’s.” Braxton hadn’t forgotten.
“Well, I never. Is that it?” Laughter all around as he told about their first meeting. But he didn’t dodge her, for Geraldine and Braxton riled him with their pertinacious badinage. He felt that they were making more fun of him than of her, and to show them just how little he minded their kidding he stalked off to find her. She was waiting, the slim, brown stripling swaying beside her, importuning her not to wait longer. He didn’t want to lose her. She didn’t want to lose Alva, and was glad when they danced off together.
“Who’s your boy friend?” Alva had fortified himself with gin. His breath smelled familiar.
“Just an acquaintance.” She couldn’t let him know she had come here unescorted. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“Of course, I did; how could I forget you?” Smooth tongue, phrases with a double meaning.
“I didn’t forget you.” Emma Lou was being coy. “I have often looked for you.”
Looked for him where? My God, what an impression he must have made! He wondered what he had
