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lead limply, her eyes shut, her face against his, her limber body curving in and out with his own.

Very abruptly the jazz ceased. The dancers stopped writhing and stood clasping each other convulsively.

"Here," panted Adelaide, with her heartbeats shaking her voice, "let's sit down."

They moved together carefully to a seat as if afraid of breaking the intimate contact. The girl still clasped Abner's neck with her bare arms and the perfume of her corsage enveloped him with its provocation. He sat down, taking her in his lap, and her weight filled him with a sort of maddened despair. His hand crushed her bosom, but she caught her breath and pulled it away.

"No, no," she gasped.

"But you love me!" he whispered unsteadily.

"No—I don't know—I don't think so."

"You don't—my God!" Abner was stricken.

She pushed his hands away from her with decision and slipped out of his lap on to the seat beside him.

"N-no, you just attract me physically, Abner, I think. There are two parts to love, you know, physical and—what you call spiritual—now don't be angry. Here, you may kiss me. You haven't kissed me. The idea of doing a girl this way without kissing her first." She held up her lips with a shaky smile.

Abner kissed her. The caress was colourless after the feel of her whole body pressed to his, and he gave the kiss with a vexed feeling.

"How spoiled you are already," she said thoughtfully, staring at him as he withdrew his face. "Goodness, some girl has made a rotten job out of you, Abner. You have no feeling whatever for crescendo, just a wild explosion." She leaned happily against his chest again and reached an arm about his neck. "You are an old bear, dear, but you certainly have got pep." At that moment the jazz music brayed forth again. "Do you want to dance to this tune?"

"No."