“I don't see the fascination, Gyp.”
“Don't you think her face really rather perfect?”
“Common.”
“Yes; but that drops off when she's dancing.”
Winton looked at her from under half-closed eyelids.
“With her clothes? What does Fiorsen think of her?”
Gyp smiled.
“Does he think of her? I don't know.”
She could feel the watchful tightening of his face. And suddenly he said:
“Daphne Wing! By George!”