But there was no escaping Mary.
"You must go and dance with Miss Carter," she told me, adducing incontrovertible arguments. I am terrified of Miss Carter, who can only be described as "statuesque" and always does the right thing (which makes her crushing to the verge of discourtesy). I am always being asked if I know whether she is "only twenty-two." It was not without satisfaction that I initiated her into my style of dancing.
To my horror, when we stopped she sat in silence, regarding me with an air of expectant boredom. I racked my brains.
"Good floor, isn't it?" said I.
"Quite," said Miss Carter.
"Jolly good band too."
"Quite," said Miss Carter.
"And rather sporting of the Smythe-Joneses, don't you think?"
She said it again. By this time I felt convinced that all the other couples within hearing were listening to us. Miss Carter is that sort of person.
"Of course," I said with a nervous laugh, "it's rather absurd for me to say anything about it, because, you know, dancing isn't much in my line."