"Wicked, too?" she echoed. "What's the 'too' mean?"
"Dancing, of course."
"But I didn't say I thought dancing wicked. I said I do not dance."
"Oh, well, you think it wicked, or you would dance."
She looked amused.
"What would you say if I should tell you I learned to dance years ago?"
"That you are strait-laced obstinacy personified. Why not dance? It could do you no harm."
"It is not expedient, that is all. Let me tell you I really did learn. I am not an accomplished dancer, though. I was taught to dance in a school I attended. But I have never danced in social life."
"Why not put aside your scruples for once," he urged, "and dance the next waltz with me? You don't know what pleasure it would give me."
But she still refused. He saw that to pursue the matter further would be useless. The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of cowboys and cowlasses, who, as they filed past, were presented to her by Kenneth Hastings.