‘It may be,’ said Julian, stung and irritable. ‘It may be that I therefore bestow the burden of my gyrations on the only two creatures of my acquaintance whose rottenness equals mine. It may be that I derive more satisfaction from the idea of this artistic whole of rottenness than from the physical delights of promiscuous contact.’
‘It may be,’ said Martin pleasantly, unperturbed.
Julian hunched his shoulders and went away, clouded by a dreadful mood.
‘Poor old Ju,’ said Martin softly.
‘Yes, poor thing.’ Her voice implied how well she understood, and he looked grateful.
In the drawing-room, Roddy and Mariella moved like a dream, smoothly turning, pausing and swaying, quite silent.
‘Well, shall we?’ Martin smiled down at her.
Now she must confess.
‘I can’t, Martin, I don’t know how. I’ve never learnt. I haven’t ever——’ Shame and despair flooded her.
‘Oh, you’ll soon learn,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Come and try.’