[ With horror.] No, no—not dancing!
MISS DYOTT.
Madly, desperately, hysterically, dancing!
QUECKETT.
And to think—if there was any free list—that my brother Bob may have been there.
MISS DYOTT.
But do you guess the one thought that prompted me, buoyed me up, guided my steps, and ultimately produced a lower G of exceptional power.
QUECKETT.
[With a groan.] No.