In an ecstatic dream Edwin found himself walking away with her on his arm. It was a miracle, an astounding, beautiful miracle. She picked up her skirt by the loop of ribbon with which it was suspended and looked him full in the eyes, smiling. “Shall we start?” she said.
They started. In one fatal moment Edwin, who hadn’t been doing badly at the beginning of the evening, forgot every single precept that Professor Beagle had taught him.
“I say, what a shocking dancer you are,” she said with a laugh.
“I’m most awfully sorry, I only learnt this week.” Now that his mind was diverted by speaking to her the steps came more naturally.
“That’s better,” she said. “Who on earth taught you?”
He confessed to Professor Beagle, and she appeared to be amused.
“You see you’re dancing away from me all the time. Just as if you were afraid of me. You ought to hold me closer. It upsets the what d’you call it . . . centre of gravity.”
“I was told never under any circumstances to—” He couldn’t very well repeat Professor Beagle’s formula.
“Now you’re getting on beautifully. Don’t think about it. That’s the idea. Just dance.”
The music ended. “Where would you like to go?” he asked.