'In New York?'
'In this restaurant. That's her up there.'
I looked up at the balcony. There was a face hanging over the red plush rail. It looked to me as if it had some hidden sorrow. I'd noticed it before, when we were dancing around, and I had wondered what the trouble was. Now I began to see.
'Why aren't you dancing with her and giving her a good time, then?' I said.
'Oh, she's having a good time.'
'She doesn't look it. She looks as if she would like to be down here, treading the measure.'
'She doesn't dance much.'
'Don't you have dances at Ashley?'
'It's different at home. She dances well enough for Ashley, but—well, this isn't Ashley.'
'I see. But you're not like that?'