The arms of Fanny were rigid over her head. But she swayed along. The pulse in her throat swayed with it. Each thing of matter, each thing of thought in the room swayed on ... except the rigid arms of Fanny....
Stopped!... For the room was there.
They looked upon the miracle of their being still in the room. Chairs, lights, bottles, persons ... all was still in the room.
They got out of their chairs. They sank to their knees on the floor.
“No!” shouted Fanny.
They were afraid.
“You cannot dance on your knees! Get up! Can’t you see?”
They saw her above them: dancing. They saw the floor beneath them: dancing.... The walls! They clasped with terror for the pitching floor. They clawed and clasped. They found each other. They were glad. They subsided. Flesh pressed against flesh. Teeth knocked against teeth. Brows beat upon carpet....
In the corner, infinitely far from her, for he, like her arms, had not moved with the room, sat Loyden.