"Yes," I said. "That's how I do it."
"Well, you needn't bother, because none of them thought I meant
THEM. Men never do."
"I shall have to think that over by myself," I said after a pause.
"There's a lot in that which the untrained observer might miss.
Anyhow, it's not at all the sort of thing that a young girl ought to
say at a dance."
"I'm older than you think," said Miss Middleton. "Oh, bother, I
forgot. You know how old I am."
"Perhaps you've been ageing lately. I have. This last election has
added years to my life. I came here to get young again."
"I don't know anything about politics. Father does all the knowing
in our family."
"He's on the right side, isn't he?"
"I think he is. He says he is."
"Oh, well, he ought to know.... Yes, the truth is I came here to be
liked again. People and I have been saying awfully rude things to
each other lately."
"Oh, why do you want to argue about politics?"
"But I DON'T want to. It's a funny thing, but nobody will believe me
when I say that."
"I expect it's because you say it AFTER you've finished arguing,
instead of BEFORE,"
"Perhaps that's it."
"I never argue with mother. I simply tell her to do something, and
she tells me afterwards why she hasn't."
"Really, I think Mrs Middleton has done wonderfully well,
considering. Some parents don't even tell you why they haven't."
"Oh, I'd recommend her anywhere," said Miss Middleton confidently.
We dropped into silence again. Anyhow, it was MY favourite waltz.
"You did say, didn't you, the first dance we had together," said
Miss Middleton dreamily, "that you preferred not to talk when you
danced?"
"Didn't I say that I should prefer to do whatever you preferred?
That sounds more like me."
"I don't think it does, a bit."
"No, perhaps you're right. Besides, I remember now what I did say. I
said that much as I enjoyed the pleasant give and take of friendly
conversation, dearly as I loved even the irresponsible monologue or
the biting repartee, yet still more was I attached to the silent
worship of the valse's mazy rhythm. 'BUT,' I went on to say, 'but,'
I added, with surprising originality, 'every rule has an exception.
YOU are the exception. May I have two dances, and then we'll try one
of each?'"
"What did I say?"
"You said, 'Sir, something tells me that we shall be great friends.
I like your face, and I like the way your tie goes under your left
ear. I cannot give you ALL the dances on the programme, because I
have my mother with me to-night, and you know what mothers are. They
NOTICE. But anything up to half a dozen, distributed at such
intervals that one's guardians will think it's the same dance, you
are heartily welcome to. And if you care to take me in to supper,
there is--I have the information straight from the stable--a line in
unbreakable meringues which would well be worth our attention.'
That's what you said."
"But what a memory!"
"I can remember more than that. I can rememher the actual struggle.
I got my meringue down on the mat, both shoulders touching, in one
minute, forty-three seconds."
The band died slowly down until no sound could be heard above the
rustle of frocks ... and suddenly everybody realized that it had
stopped.
"Bother," said Miss Middleton.
"That's just like a band," I said bitterly.
"I'll tell it to go on again; it's MY band."
"It will be your devoted band if you ask it prettily enough."
Miss Middleton went away, and came back to the sound of music,
looking rather pleased with herself.
"Did you give him the famous smile?" I asked. "Yes, that one."
"I said, 'WOULD you mind playing that one again, PLEASE?' And
then--"
"And then you looked as if you were just going to cry, and at the
last moment you smiled and said, 'Hooray.' And he said, 'Certainly,
madam.' Isn't that right?"
"I believe you're cleverer than some of us think," said Miss
Middleton, a trifle anxiously.
"I sometimes think so too. However, to get back to what we were
saying--I came here to recover my usual calm, and I shan't be at all
calm if I'm only going to get this one dance from you. As an old
friend of the family, who has broken most of the windows, I beg for
another."
"To get back to what I was saying--I've simply GOT to do a lot of
duty dances. Can't you take me to the Zoo or the Post-Impressionists
instead?"
"I'd rather do both. I mean all three. No, I mean both."
"Well, perhaps I would, too."
"You know, I think you'd be doing good. I've had a horrible
week--canvassing, and standing in the streets, and shouting, and
reading leaders, and arguing, and saying, 'My point is perfectly
simple,' and--and--swearing, and all sorts of things. It's awfully
jolly to--to feel that there's always--well, all THIS," and I looked
round the room, "to come back to."
"Isn't that beautiful Miss Ellison I introduced you to just now part
of 'all this'?"
"Oh yes, it's all part; but--"
Miss Middleton sighed.
"Then that nice young man with the bald head will have to go
without. But I only said I'd SEE if I could give him one. And I have
seen, haven't I?"
The band really stopped this time, and we found a comfortable
corner.
"That's very jolly of you," I said, as I leant back lazily and
happily. "Now let's talk about Christmas."