"Not any more.

I don't care to dance any more." Bevy looked at him oddly for a moment--a single thoughtful glance.
"But I have a dance, though," she pleaded, softly.

"I was just teasing.

Won't you dance it with me?
"I can't refuse, of course," replied Cowperwood, coldly.
"It's the next one," she replied.
They danced, but he scarcely softened to her at first, so angry was he.
Somehow, because of all that had gone before, he felt stiff and ungainly.

She had managed to break in upon his natural savoir faire--this chit of a girl.