"Don't mind if I do,"said John. "May I have the pleasure?" with a courtly bow to Margery.
They re-commenced.
"That's right," said Margery; "now two forward."
"I must have a natural genius for dancing," said John, conversing easily; "I seem to ... Do we twinkle next?"
"Yes," said Margery.
"I seem to fall into it naturally."
"Look out!" shrieked Margery.
I don't know exactly what happened; I rather think John got his gears mixed up in the twinkling business. At any rate, one of his feet shot up in the air, he made a wild grab at nothing and tripped heavily backwards into the hearth. The piano was drowned in general uproar.
John arose with difficulty from the ashes and addressed himself haughtily to Cecilia.
"I can understand that these two," he said, waving a black but contemptuous hand at Margery and myself, "should scream with delight. Their whole conception of humour is bound up with banana-skins and orange-peel. But may I ask why you should have hysterics because your husband has fallen into the fireplace?"