"What professional experience have you had?" he asked.
"I haven't had any."
He almost smiled when she stopped there.
"Any amateur experience?" he inquired.
"Quite a lot," said Rose; "pageants and things, and two or three little plays."
"Can you dance?"
"Yes," said Rose.
He said he supposed ballroom dancing was what she meant, whereupon she told him she was a pretty good ballroom dancer, but that it was gymnastic dancing she had had in mind.
"All right," he said. "See if you can do this. Watch me, and then imitate me exactly."
In the intensity of her absorption in his questions and her own answers to them, she had never given a thought to the bystanders. But now as they fell back to give him room, she swept a glance across their faces. They all wore smiles of sorts. There was something amusing about this—something out of the regular routine. A little knot of chorus-girls halted in the act of going out the wide doors and stood watching. Was it just a hoax? The suppressed unnatural silence sounded like it. But at what John Galbraith did, one of the bystanders guffawed outright.