They were laughing and chatting and the sound of them was like the sound of music - very happy, but at the same time, sophisticated music.
"There they are," cried Elaine.
"Come along," she said.
She ran and her running was like flying, and his breath caught in his throat at the slimness and the grace of her.
He ran after her and there was no grace in his running. He could feel the heaviness of it. It was a gambol rather than a run, an awkward lope in comparison to the running of Elaine.
Like a dog, he thought. Like an overgrown puppy trying to keep up, falling over its own feet, with its tongue hanging out and panting.
He tried to run more gracefully and he tried to erase the thinking from his mind.
Mustn't think. Mustn't think at all. They catch everything. They will laugh at you.
They were laughing at him.
He could feel their laughter, the silent, gracious amusement that was racing in their minds.