Chapter
8
The music stopped at the end of the waltz, leaving Billy and Saxon at the big entrance doorway of the ballroom. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, and they were promenading on to find seats, when Charley Long, evidently just arrived, thrust his way in front of them.
"So you're the buttinsky, eh?" he demanded, his face malignant with passion and menace.
"Who?—me?" Billy queried gently. "Some mistake, sport. I never butt in."
"You're goin' to get your head beaten off if you don't make yourself scarce pretty lively."
"I wouldn't want that to happen for the world," Billy drawled. "Come on, Saxon. This neighborhood's unhealthy for us."
He started to go on with her, but Long thrust in front again.
"You're too fresh to keep, young fellow," he snarled. "You need saltin' down. D'
