Lost trumpet

THE LOST TRUMPET I49
And, as a surge reached towards where I stood,
another couple came to halt within a yard of me.
The man, who had the look of an over-eager plaice,
said : Say, guess we should see the management.”
The woman, possessed of puffy eyes and an unfor¬
tunate dewlap, said : “Disgusting.”
And, with myself, they watched Pelagueya and
Aslaug pass.
Pelagueya had entered the dance I think still with
the devil upon her. Aslaug’s face had assumed a
slow flush of surprise and pleasure as, held in those
lithe Russian arms, her feet caught the beat of the
tune and Pelagueya’s white, mischievous face bent
over hers. The churchgoing social plaice beside me
cleared his throat. “Guess they’re professional
dancers.”
“Guess they’re women off the streets,” said the
churchly female bloodhound, and at that moment
the dance ceased. Looking across the ebb of disen-
gaging and engaging partners for the next number—
for the most of the social churchfolks were but small
in stature I saw Pelagueya and Aslaug surrounded
in a twinkle, saw Aslaug flushingly consider a number
of suitors and accept a great raw-boned boy. But
Pelagueya shook her head and made her way through
the halted groups. The plaice and the bloodhound
backed a little towards the door, the bloodhound
whispering hoarsely : “Gene, you’re not to go with
her.”
“Next one with me, Anton ?”
I bowed. Charmed, Princess,” and had the mean