"And I insist, Mr. Pybus, upon your dancing with Mrs. Chalmers. I warn you that if you don't you will be morally guilty, not only of murder, but of suicide." He turned to me. "As for you--are you a man? Do you think that it is your life only which is hanging in the balance? I tell you that the only hope for Miss Hammond is to keep her circulating. Do that, and I will answer for it with my own life, that all will yet be well."
"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!"
It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist.
"George, whatever you think it best."
"That's better," said Hughes.
"Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy."
Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening!
You should see me dance the polka,
You should see me cover the ground;
You should see my coat-tails flying--
My coat-tails were anything but flying. We made no attempt at keeping time with Hughes. Under the most favourable circumstances the thing would have been impossible. We moved, Margaret and I, as if we were treading a funeral measure. My legs were going at the knees. I felt her frail frame quivering in my arms.
"Now, then, Pybus," shouted Hughes, "off you go with Mrs. Chalmers. Don't ask her; make her. Pull her off the couch and jump her about!"