(She shakes her head.)
There was the doorway to the front, always open. Through it came the clatter of chips, the rattle of roulette balls, the calls of the gamekeepers. And there was the rear door. It opened upon the street. When it opened the frost came through, in a cloud of vapor, rolling along the floor and hiding the feet and legs of the dancers to the knees. And we danced, you and I, we danced Old Dan Tucker.
FREDA
(Innocently.)
How interesting! Tell me, that—that what you described, it is a—a dance-hall? Am I right?
CAPT. EPPINGWELL
(With firm conviction.)
I remember when you came in through the door. The frost rolled in with you, and you wore the most magnificent furs in all the Klondike. And you danced in moccasins, in little red moccasins. Remember?
FREDA
(Still innocently.)