"I have never danced myself, dear."
"Stand up here, and let me show you. Now, you go this way. One, two, three; one, two, three; skippity, skip, skip; one, two, three—and that is all there is to it."
"Simple, isn't it?"
"Perfectly simple. Now is that wrong?"
"Well, Rosalie, I tell you frankly, as man to man, if I were young and had a soft shoulder like yours against my arm, and a pretty face like yours very close to my lips—I should probably be tempted to kiss it."
"Oh, father," cried Rosalie, joining the burst of laughter. "You would not do it, surely."
"Not in public, no. And I may add, if I had a pretty hand like yours in mine, I should probably squeeze it, and if I had my arm around your waist like this—I'd probably squeeze that, too."
Merry laughter greeted the admission. Then in the silence that followed he said slowly. "There are many things I could do, Rosalie, that would do me no harm, and others no harm. But would I get pleasure enough out of the doing to make it worth my while? Suppose even one person should say, 'He is a vain and worldly man, I do not wish to go to him in my trouble.' If one person should say that of me, I would consider I had paid too big a price for the little amusement. It may be one of the things we give in return for the badge of the ministry, my dear—I, for one, am willing to give it. It is the one big talent of our profession—the talent of giving up."
Rosalie looked at him steadily.