Toff 's violin purred under his hands as he waited for the next set to form . The dancers were slow about it . There was not the rush for the floor that there had been earlier in the evening , for the supper table was now spread in the dining-room and most of the guests were hungry . `` Fill up dere , boys , '' shouted the fiddler impatiently . `` Bring out your gals for de nex ' set . '' After a moment Paul King led out Joan Shelley from the shadowy corner where they had been sitting . They had already danced several sets together ; Joan had not danced with anybody else that evening . As they stood together under the light from the lamp on the shelf above them , many curious and disapproving eyes watched them . Connor Mitchell , who had been standing in the open outer doorway with the moonlight behind him , turned abruptly on his heel and went out . Paul King leaned his head against the wall and watched the watchers with a smiling , defiant face as they waited for the set to form . He was a handsome fellow , with the easy , winning ways that women love . His hair curled in bronze masses about his head ; his dark eyes were long and drowsy and laughing ; there was a swarthy bloom on his round cheeks ; and his lips were as red and beguiling as a girl 's . A bad egg was Paul King , with a bad past and a bad future . He was shiftless and drunken ; ugly tales were told of him . Not a man in Lyall 's house that night but grudged him the privilege of standing up with Joan Shelley . Joan was a slight , blossom-like girl in white , looking much like the pale , sweet-scented house rose she wore in her dark hair . Her face was colourless and young , very pure and softly curved . She had wonderfully sweet , dark blue eyes , generally dropped down , with notably long black lashes . There were many showier girls in the groups around her , but none half so lovely . She made all the rosy-cheeked beauties seem coarse and over-blown .
She left in Paul 's clasp the hand by which he had XXXXX her out on the floor .
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