I have often wondered at Jacques’ and places of the sort.  The intermingling of eating and drinking and dancing was curious.  What possible bearing this terpsichorean monstrosity might have upon the gastronomic inclinations of the audience it would have been difficult to fathom.

The lights flashed bright again and Kennedy gave our order.  Meanwhile I glanced about at the people below us.  There was no one in sight I knew until I leaned well over the rail, but upon doing that I felt little chills of excitement run from the top to the bottom of my spine, for I discovered in a very prominent situation at the very edge of the dance floor a party of four, of whom three very much concerned us.  Lloyd Manton, back to the polished space behind him, was unmistakable in evening clothes.  These bunched at his neck and revealed his habitual stoop as impartially as his business suits.  Across from him, lounging upon the table likewise, but more immaculately and skillfully tailored, was Lawrence Millard.  The writer, I noticed, flourished his cigarette holder, fully a foot in length, and emphasized his remarks to the girl on his right with a rather characteristic gesture made with the second finger of his left hand.  The girl was Enid, quite mistress of herself in a gown little more than no gown; and the remarks were obviously confidential.  The other girl, engrossed in Manton, seemed a dangerously youthful and self-conscious young lady.  Her hair flamed Titian red and her neck, of which she displayed not half as much as Enid, gave her much concern.

“Kennedy!  Look!” I reached over to attract his attention.

“Who’s the second girl, I wonder?” He became as interested as I was.

With a blatant flourish of saxophone and cornet and traps the band began a jazzy fox-trot.  Instantly there was a rush from the tables for the floor.  Enid jumped to her feet, moving her bare shoulders in the rhythm of the music.  Then Millard took firm hold of her and they wove their way into the crush.  It seemed to me that the little star was the very incarnation of the dance.  I envied her partner more than I dared admit to myself.

Manton and his companion rose also, but more leisurely.  On her feet the girl did not seem so young, although the second impression may have been the result of the length of her skirt and the long slim, lines of her gown.  We watched both couples through the number, then gave our attention to the food we had ordered.  Another dance, a modified waltz, revealed Enid in the arms of Manton.  I tried to determine from her actions if she felt any preference for the producer, or for Millard when again she took the floor with him.  It was an idle effort, of course.  The people surged out perhaps three or four times while we were at our meal.  Each time the party below jumped up in response to the music.  At our cigars, finally, I took to observing the other diners, wondering what we had gained by coming here.