ss, right through the night—''
''Dance, Sue?''
''Dance, miss.'' Her face had changed. I put the cards down. ''You like to dance, of course?''
''I—'' She coloured, and lowered her gaze. ''I was never taught it. Do you think,'' she said, looking up, ''I might be a lady, in London— that is,'' she added quickly, ''if I were ever to go there.—Do you think I might be a lady in London, and yet not dance?''
She passed her hand across her lip, rather nervously. I said, ''You might, I suppose. Shouldn''t you like to learn, though? You could find a dancing-master.''
''Could I?'' She looked doubtful, then shook her head. ''I am not sure . . .''
I guessed what she was thinking. She was thinking of Gentleman, and what he might say when he found out she couldn''t dance. She was thinking of all the girls he might be meeting in London, who could.
I watched her fret for a minute or two. Then, ''Look here,'' I said, getting up. ''It is easy, look—''
And I showed her a couple of steps, to a couple of dances. Then I made her rise and try them with me. She stood in my arms like wood, and gazed, in a frightened sort of way, at her feet. Her slippers caught on the Turkey carpet. So then I put the carpet back; and then she moved more easily. I showed her a jig, and then a polka. I said, ''There. Now we''re flying, ain''t we?'' She gripped my gown until I thought it should tear. ''This way,'' I said. ''Now, this. I am the gentleman, remember. Of course, it will go much better, with a real gent—''