“Oh, dancing, of course!” said Jinky.
They all went into the drawing-room, and one of the servants started the phonograph playing. The music began, the thud of drums like bare feet stamping, the sweet whine of Hawaiian guitars, like lazy laughter. Geraldine had followed the others, meaning only to pass through on her way to the garden, but halfway across the room Sambo stopped her.
“Give me this dance!” he said softly.
“No!” she answered with a quick frown, and moved away.
But he came after her, and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Please!” he said. “Why won’t you?”
The touch of his hand filled her with a great anger. She turned her head and looked at him with scornful amazement—and found in his face only laughter and cajolery.
“Please!” he said again. “Just one dance!”
“No!” she said.
He could not very well misunderstand—or pretend to misunderstand—her tone. He dropped his hand and stood back.