"I don't feel like dancing," said Diana, as her partner guided her through the narrow spaces.
"No one would suspect it," he replied. "I was just thinking that this night was to be superlative in all directions."
"But how can one endure this silly music when 'Manon! Manon!' is echoing through the heart!"
Philip did not reply, nor did he release her until the gay strumming at the piano ceased. Then they went out on the piazza. The laughing, chattering young people were streaming out into the air, and occupying every available seat. The field surrounding the hall was light as day.
"Let us go down to the rocks," said Philip.
"I mustn't because my mother is going to send the car back for me in one hour. You've no idea how firmly my mother can say 'one hour' and mean it."
"There should be no rules on a night like this," Philip regarded his companion, pale in the moonlight as her pale, filmy garments. "I feel like quoting a choice spirit of my childhood days. He was trying to get me to go on a tear of some kind with him, and I told him my mother would worry. He said, 'Oh, come on. Scoldings don't hurt, whippings don't last long, and she da'sn't kill you.'"
Diana smiled. "Now that she is here, she likes to tuck me in," she said.
"I would she had waited until after the moon. Well, let us go to the near rocks. I will keep watch of the time."