——“That proves nothing at all.”
——“I tell you a waltz should be an intoxicating whirl.”
——“Just at the end, perhaps; though I am not so sure of that either. Listen, I’ll show you the kind of movement I like.”
And, seating herself at the piano, my wife began to play a few bars of the Colonel waltz.
“That is a waltz,” she said, seating herself on my knees, and laying her head upon my shoulder.
——“Indeed!” I replied, growing reflective. “I say, darling, if you don’t mind—I don’t know why I ask you that again, but more than ever ... I had rather you waltzed with no one but me.”
——“Oh! you need not ask me; and if that poor fellow had not set about it so awkwardly, I should very soon have thanked him and excused myself.... Just time enough to perceive that it was a waltz: and that would have settled it, you may be sure.”
——“I don’t follow you at all.”
——“It is so lovely to waltz with you! You are not afraid to hold me firmly, and besides ... when I get giddy, I just lay my head on your shoulder and close my eyes, and then I feel quite safe.”
——“It’s a curious thing. The waltz makes me a little giddy too, but still I....”