Don't dance any more, darling, you look worn out.
Violet.
Supposing you danced with your mother, Henry. I can see her toes itching inside her black satin slippers.
Christina.
Nonsense! I haven't danced for fifteen years.
Henry.
Come on, mother. Just to show them you know how.
[He seizes her hand and drags her to her feet.]
Christina.
I was just as good a dancer as anybody else in my day.