“A little slowly,” she said. “It’s marked too fast,” and went towards the open door.
Then she flitted back to him.... Her intent face came close to his. “I don’t love any one, Willy,” she said. “I’m not the sort. I just dance.”
They looked at each other.
“I love you,” said Wilmington, and watched her go.
But she had made him ridiculously happy....
She danced through the whole Kreutzer Sonata. The Kreutzer Sonata has always been a little dirty since Tolstoy touched it. Tolstoy pronounced it erotic. There are men who can find a lascivious import in a Corinthian capital. The Kreutzer Sonata therefore had a strong appeal to Huntley’s mind. These associations made it seem to him different from other music, just as calling this or that substance a “drug” always dignified it in his eyes with the rich suggestions of vice. He read strange significances into Joan’s choice of that little music as he watched her over the heads of the Braughing girls. But Joan just danced.
At supper she found herself drifting to a seat near Peter. She left him to his Hetty, and went up the table to a place under Oswald’s black wing. The supper at Pelham Ford was none of your stand-up affairs. Mrs. Moxton’s ideas of a dance supper were worthy of Britannia. Oswald carved a big turkey and Peter had cold game pie, and Aunt Phyllis showed a delicate generosity with a sharp carver and a big ham. There were hot potatoes and various salads, and jugs of lemonade and claret cup for every one, and whisky for the mature. Joan became a sober enquirer about African dancing.
“It’s the West Coast that dances,” said Oswald. “There’s richer music on the West Coast than all round the Mediterranean.”
“All this American music comes from the negro,” he declared. “There’s hardly a bit of American music that hasn’t colour in its blood.”
After supper Joan was the queen of the party. Adela was in love with her again, as slavish as in their schooldays, and the Sheldricks and the Braughing boys and girls did her bidding. “Let’s do something processional,” said Joan. “Let us dress up and do the Funeral March of a Marionette.”