Marc raised a hand and wig-wagged in their direction. Jack Snell was a born "Gathering Appraiser," and it didn't take him long to catch the signal. As they moved across the floor toward him, Marc couldn't help noticing that Julie looked especially wonderful. This was the first time he had seen her outside of the office and her white lace dress emphasized all the glamour that her customary business suit suppressed. "She looks like something out of a dream," he thought and then blanched. He revised the thought hurriedly: "She looks like something out of real life." "Hello," said Jack. He addressed Marc but looked at Toffee. His face lit up like a pin ball machine. Toffee had run up a winning score. "Oh, yes," said Marc quickly, "I want you to meet Toffee, my--uh--my cousin." "She was your niece earlier today," Julie said evenly. Marc laughed self-consciously as Jack and Julie seated themselves at the table. Julie turned to Toffee. "Are you enjoying your visit here?" "Oh, yes," replied Toffee with enthusiasm. "Everyone seems so friendly. Do you know what one man said to me today?" "I could guess," said Julie flatly. "I think we should dance," Jack cut in quickly. "Oh, I'd love to," beamed Toffee. * * * * * They rose and started for the dance floor. Turning, Toffee said: "You'll excuse us?" She was looking directly at Julie. "Did you want to dance," asked Marc without enthusiasm. "No, thank you," replied Julie. "The floor is much too crowded." "That's good, I don't know how very well." "You never go out much, do you? That is, you haven't until lately." "Why, no. I've been too busy--until lately. Perhaps that was a mistake." "Perhaps," said Julie cryptically as she turned to the dance floor. "You're looking very beautiful," said Marc. "Am I?" Julie continued to look away but she couldn't restrain a faint smile. Marc found himself with nothing to say, but continued to stare at Julie. He couldn't get over the change in her. His mind wandered off into a lovely, imaginary land without night clubs, in which he and Julie were the only inhabitants. [Illustration: Jack danced on, completely at ease while around him people started to edge away with startled glances....] This was extremely unfortunate for, out on the dance floor, Jack Snell suddenly found himself dancing, inexplicably and most embarrassingly, alone. Toffee had suddenly vanished into thin air. He also found himself alarmingly confronted by Mrs. Claribel Housing, a matron of tremendous prominence, in more ways and places than one. Mrs. Housing understood any misdemeanor perpetrated in the Spray Club as a personal affront, to be dealt with personally. After all, it did cast unflattering reflections on her "Set." "Young man," she boomed. "I wonder if you realize what a disgusting exhibition you are presenting. I should think that if you must get roaring drunk, you could do it somewhere less public."