‘That’s my daughter,’ said the elderly woman, pointing out a very pretty girl dancing at that moment with Christopher. ‘Which is yours?’
No, Catherine didn’t enjoy herself.
For the life of her she couldn’t help being rather quiet in the taxi going home. Christopher had seemed to enjoy himself so much. All those girls....
‘I loved that,’ he said, lighting a cigarette, and then drawing her to him.
‘I thought you said you were bored by girls.’
‘Not if you’re there too. It makes all the difference.’
‘But I wasn’t much good to you.’
‘Why, just to know you were there, with me, in the room, made me happy.’
‘Do I make a good background?’ she asked, trying to sound amused.
He threw away his cigarette and took her in his arms. ‘Darling, were you horribly fed up, sitting there? I tell you what—we’ll get a gramophone, and I’ll teach you to dance. You’ll learn in no time, and then we’ll dance together at these shows every night.’