So we danced a little--not very well.
"I wish," Yvonne said, "I could do that step."
I took a good look at her. And I looked back, in my mind, at her
stylized past.
Her gray eyes were wide open and very bright. Otherwise she was
composed. She didn't seem to realize how unprecedented it was for her
not to mind that she had been caught eavesdropping on a man she'd known
for a day who was alone with a girl she did not know at all. She
should have been shocked--shocked as much as if she had suddenly found
she had gone up on the stage and begun ad-libbing a part in a play. But
she wasn't even concerned; she behaved as if she had always been in the
cast.
Maybe she had.
When she said she wished she could do the off-beat step, I stopped
dancing.
"Show her," I said to Gwen.
Gwen looked straight into my eyes--her back to Yvonne. One curved brow
went up, inquiringly. I nodded the least bit.
Gwen let go of me as if I had disappeared. She turned and smiled and
held out her arms.
Yvonne set her drink down carefully and got up and walked to Gwen. They
began dancing--not trying the step--but just dancing. In a moment--in
the same moment--without either of them saying a word--they switched;
Yvonne led Gwen.