‘Oh, I couldn’t.’
She glanced at the competent interweaving feet of Mariella and Roddy, at Marietta’s slender back pivoting gracefully from the hips, at Roddy’s composed dancing-face and shoulders. She could not let them see her stumbling and struggling.
‘Well, come and practise in the hall. Here now. Can you hear the music? Follow me. This is a fox-trot. Look, your feet between my feet. Now just go backwards, following my movements. Don’t think about it. If you step on my feet it’s my fault and vice versa. Now—short, long, short, two short. Don’t keep your back so stiff,—quite free and supple but quite upright.’
‘Do it by yourself,’ said Judith perspiring with anxiety. ‘Then I can see.’
He chasséd solemnly round the hall, pausing now and then to show her how he brought his feet together; then, with a firm hand on her shoulder-blades he made her follow him.
‘That’s good. It’s coming. Oh, good! Sorry, that was my fault. You’ve got the trick now.’
All at once the music had got into her limbs; it seemed impossible not to move to it.
‘But you can!’ said Martin, letting her go and beaming at her in joyful surprise.
‘Come back into the drawing-room,’ said Judith, exalted. They went.
‘Now,’ she said trembling.