"Sailors," I said, "dance together on battleships and have fun. That's
why sailors are good dancers. I was never a sailor, however. The
dancing I've done with guys was when my teacher despaired of being able
to show me a step--and called in one of the boys to demonstrate--and to
lead it."
"Oh."
She was disappointed. She had fled in revulsion from her husband's act;
she had no similar scruples about me.
On the contrary.
I thought that if she possessed even a little insight into that single
pair of facts she might be a happier girl. And I also thought that any
attempt to supply the insight by pointing out the two inconsistent
attitudes would only tighten the hold of her small, personal dilemma.
She would deny the very suggestion; she would use all her energy to
authenticate the denial--immediately--and in the weeks, months, years
to come--use it to kid herself. Not to investigate herself.
So I said, "It's a good way to learn. Lots of gals get women teachers
in dancing school. Men embarrass them."
"Really?"
"Sure."
"You mean--if I went and enrolled and asked for a girl teacher--nobody
would think I was--queer?"
"Thousands do."
"I never knew it." She said that almost to herself--and hurried on, as
if to expunge it. "We had a man teacher that came to the house--and
I was always afraid to go to a school--for fear I'd get some slimy
gigolo--"
"More likely a GI working his way through college."
"Don't you want to dance with me again?"
It was after one o'clock when we climbed back up on the humid street
and the doorman flagged a cab. She said the night was young--and I
said, but I was old. I said I had to get up early and work. I told
the driver to go by way of Central Park and Seventy-second Street
and while we hummed between the lamplit green leaf walls she moved
over to be kissed, so I kissed her, but not much. And after that I
spoiled my breast-pocket handkerchief wiping off the lipstick, which is
another convention. We went through the empty lobby. The night clerk
was a tall, handsome gent and his eyes glimmered at me when I rang the
elevator bell. Harry brought a car down, let out a policeman (who had
been on God alone could imagine what errand) and hoisted us to Sixteen.
She took her key from the golden handbag and unlocked 1603. She turned
up her face slightly. "It's been a lovely evening."