He would not have chosen the word, but it formed a vent for his emotion.
"Bleached blonde," said Spike after a sharper scrutiny of the fair one, who now coquetted with a circle of gallants.
"Isn't she ?" exclaimed the new lover, admiringly.
With so golden a result to dazzle him, was he to quarrel pettishly with the way it had been wrought?
"Do you suppose I could be introduced to her ?" demanded Wilbur, timidly.
This marked the depth of his passion.

He was too good a dancer to talk such nonsense ordinarily.
"Surest thing you know," said Spike.

"Could you be introduced to her?
In a split second! Come on!" "But you don't know her yourself ?" Wilbur hung back.
"Stop your kiddin'!" Spike half dragged his fearful charge across the floor, not too subtly shouldered a way between Bill Bardin and Terry Stamper, bowed gracefully to the strange beauty, and said, "Hello, sister! Shake hands with my friend, Kid Cowan." "Pleased to meet you!" She smiled graciously upon Wilbur and extended a richly jewelled hand, which he timidly pressed.

Then she turned to Spike Brennon.

"I know your name, all right," she declared.