Quin

								

soul-stirring music in place of the wheezy old phonograph grinding out
the same old tunes; and, above all, girls, hundreds of them, circling in
a bewildering rainbow of loveliness before him.
Was it any wonder that Quin's foot began to twitch, and that, in spite of
repeated warnings at the hospital, a blind desire seized him to dance? At
the mere thought his heart gained a beat--that unruly heart, which had
caused so much trouble. It had never been right since that August day in
the Sevzevais sector, when, to quote his citation, he "had shown great
initiative in assuming command when his officer was disabled, and, with
total disregard for his personal safety, had held his machine-gun against
almost impossible odds." In the accomplishment of this feat he had been
so badly gassed and wounded that his career as a soldier was definitely,
if gloriously, ended.
The long discipline of pain to which he had been subjected had not,
however, conquered Quin's buoyancy. He was still tremendously vital, and
when he wanted anything he wanted it inordinately and immediately. Just
now, when every muscle in him was keeping time to that soul-disturbing
music, he heard his own imperative desire voiced at his elbow:
"I don't want to go home. I want to dance. Nobody will notice us. Just
one round, Captain Phipps."
The voice was young and singularly vibrant, and the demand in it was
quite as insistent as the demand that was clamoring in Quin's own
khaki-covered breast.
He craned his neck to see the speaker; but she was hidden by her escort,
in whose supercilious profile he recognized one of the officers in charge
of his ward at the hospital.
"You foolish child!" the officer was saying, fingering his diminutive
mustache and viewing the scene with a somewhat contemptuous smile. "You
said if I would bring you in for a moment you wouldn't ask to stay."
"I know, but I always break my promises," said the coaxing voice; "and
besides I'm simply crazy to dance."
"You surely don't imagine that I would get out on the floor with all this
hoi-poloi?"
Quin saw a pair of small gloved hands grasp the railing resolutely, and
he was straightway filled with indignation that any man, of whatever
rank, should stand back on his dignity when a voice like that asked a
favor. A similar idea had evidently occurred to the young lady, for she
said with some spirit:
"The only difference I can see between these boys and you is that they
are privates who got over, and you are an officer who didn't."
Quin could not hear the answer, but as the officer shifted his position
he caught his first glimpse of the girl. She was very young and obviously
imperious, with white skin and coal-black hair and the most utterly
destructive brown eyes he had ever encountered. Discretion should have
prompted him to seek immediate safety out of the firing-line, but instead
he put himself in the most exposed position possible and waited results.