He went up-stairs again, and met Ruth Earp coming down. She was glorious in white. Except that nothing glittered in her hair, she looked the very equal of the Countess, at a little distance, plain though her features were. "What about that waltz?" Denry began, informally. "That waltz is nearly over," said Ruth Earp, with chilliness. "I suppose you ’ve been staring at her ladyship with all the other men." "I ’m awfully sorry," he said. "I did n’t know the waltz was——" "Well, why did n’t you look at your programme?" "Have n’t got one," he said naïvely. He had omitted to take a programme. Ninny! Barbarian! "Better get one," she said, cuttingly, somewhat in her rôle of dancing mistress. "Can’t we finish the waltz?" he suggested, crestfallen. "No!" she said, and continued her solitary way downwards. She was hurt. He tried to think of something to say that was equal to the situation, and equal to the style of his suit. But he could not. In a moment he heard her, below him, greeting some male acquaintance in the most effusive way. Yet, if Denry had not committed a wicked crime for her, she could never have come to the dance at all! He got a programme, and with terror gripping his heart he asked sundry young and middle-aged women whom he knew by sight and by name for a dance. (Ruth had taught him how to ask.) Not one of them had a dance left. Several looked at him as much as to say: "You must be a goose to suppose that my programme is not filled up in the twinkling of my eye!" Then he joined a group of despisers of dancing near the main door. Harold Etches was there, the wealthiest manufacturer of his years (barely twenty-four) in the Five Towns. Also Sillitoe, cause of another of Denry’s wicked crimes. The group was taciturn, critical, and very doggish. The group observed that the Countess was not dancing. The Earl was dancing (need it be said with Mrs. Jos. Curtenly, second wife of the Deputy Mayor?), but the Countess stood resolutely smiling, surrounded by Aldermen. Possibly she was getting her breath; possibly nobody had had the pluck to ask her. Anyhow she seemed to be stranded there, on a beach of Aldermen. Very wisely she had brought with her no members of a house-party from Sneyd Hall. Members of a house-party, at a municipal ball, invariably operate as a bar between greatness and democracy; and the Countess desired to participate in the life of the people. "Why don’t some of those johnnies ask her?" Denry burst out. He had hitherto said nothing in the group, and he felt that he must be a man with the rest of them. "Well, _you_ go and do it. It’s a free country," said Sillitoe. "So I would, for two pins!" said Denry. Harold Etches glanced at him, apparently resentful of his presence there. Harold Etches was determined to put the extinguisher on _him_. "I ’ll bet you a fiver you don’t," said Etches, scornfully. "I ’ll take you," said Denry very quickly, and very quickly walked off.