"Do you mean me?" Peggy demanded out of the dimness.
"I mean both of you."
"I can't dance—not the new dances." Anne was conscious of an overwhelming shyness. "Take Peggy."
"How did you know we were up here?" Peggy asked.
"Well, I heard a little laugh, and a little whisper, and I looked up and saw a little girl."
"Oh, oh, did you really?"
"Really."
"Well, I can't dance. But I can try."
So they tried, with Richard lifting the child lightly to the lilting tune.
When he brought her back, he sat down beside Anne. Shyness still chained her, but he chatted easily. Anne could not have told why she was shy. In the stable she had felt at her ease with him. But then she had not seen Eve or Winifred. It was the women who had seemed to make the difference.