I went from porch to parlor and thence to patio, watching and amused.
The lights and the decorations of flowers, the bright dresses and the
flashy scarfs of the cowboys furnished a gay enough scene to a man of
lonesome and stern life like mine. During the dance there was a steady,
continuous shuffling tramp of boots, and during the interval following a
steady, low hum of merry talk and laughter.
My wandering from place to place, apart from my usual careful
observation, was an unobtrusive but, to me, a sneaking pursuit of Sally
Langdon.
She had on a white dress I had never seen with a low neck and short
sleeves, and she looked so sweet, so dainty, so altogether desirable,
that I groaned a hundred times in my jealousy. Because, manifestly,
Sally did not intend to run any risk of my not seeing her in her glory,
no matter where my eyes looked.
A couple of times in promenading I passed her on the arm of some proud
cowboy or gallant young buck from town, and on these occasions she
favored her escort with a languishing glance that probably did as much
damage to him as to me.
Presently she caught me red-handed in my careless, sauntering pursuit of
her, and then, whether by intent or from indifference, she apparently
deigned me no more notice.
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