They danced two or three times around the room in complete silence. Beatrice did not in the least mind dancing with James, indeed she rather enjoyed it, he danced so well. But why address her in that sepulchral tone; why make his invitation sound like a threat; why not at least put up a pretense of making duty a pleasure? She was conscious of a slight rise of irritation; if James was going to be a skeleton at this feast.... She was relieved when he handed her over to one of the other men.
But James had no intention of being a skeleton. He went back to bed before any of the others, alleging a headache. Beatrice learned this indirectly, through Harry, and felt rather disappointed. She would have preferred to have him remain and enjoy himself; she did not bother to explain why. But he was apparently determined that nothing should make him enjoy himself. James was rather irritating, sometimes. She said as much, to Harry, who assented, frowning slightly. She saw a chance to get in some of the small work of destiny-fighting.
"He's not been at all natural lately," she said; "I've been quite worried about him. I wish you'd watch him and tell me what to do about it. I feel rather to blame for it, naturally."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry," said Harry. "Working in the city in summer is hard on any one, of course."
"I'm afraid it's more than that, and I want your help. You understand James better than I do, I think."
"No, you're wrong there. I don't understand James at all. No one really understands any one else, as a matter of fact. We think we do, but we don't. The very simplest nature is a regular Cretan labyrinth."
"But a wife ought to be the Theseus of her husband's labyrinth, that's the point."
"Perhaps you're right. Here's hoping you don't find a minotaur in the middle!"
She didn't worry much about it, however. Tommy cut in soon afterward, and they didn't talk about James or labyrinths either. Tommy had not danced with her before that evening. She was going to say something about that, but decided not to. It was too jolly dancing to talk, really. Tommy danced very well—quite as well as James. They danced the contemporary American dances for some time and then they broke into an old-fashioned whirling English waltz; the dance they had both been brought up on. It brought memories to the minds of both; they felt old times and places creeping back on them.
"Do you remember the last time we did this?" asked Tommy presently.