He took about five minutes. Lose not a moment, Hobson. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. As the Wastrel rushed, Spurlock sidestepped, swept the ball into his hand, set himself and threw it. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links.
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