for music, and a few dancing
lessons at Cambridge had only put him into possession of the anatomy of
a waltz, without imparting any of its spirit. A single turn proved to
them that their methods were incompatible; instead of fitting into each
other their bones seemed to jut out in angles making smooth turning an
impossibility, and cutting, moreover, into the circular progress of the
other dancers.

"Shall we stop?" said Hirst. Rachel gathered from his expression that he
was annoyed.

They staggered to seats in the corner, from which they had a view of the
room. It was still surging, in waves of blue and yellow, striped by the
black evening-clothes of the gentlemen.

"An amazing spectacle," Hirst remarked. "Do you dance much in London?"
They were both breathing fast, and both a little excited, though each
was determined not to show any excitement at all.

"Scarcely ever. Do you?"

"My people give a dance every Christmas."

"This isn't half a bad floor," Rachel said. Hirst did not attempt to
answer her platitude. He sat quite silent, staring at the dancers. After
three minutes the silence became so intolerable to Rachel that she was
goaded to advance another commonplace about the beauty of the night.
Hirst interrupted her ruthlessly.

"Was that all nonsense what you said the other day about being a
Christian and having no education?" he asked.

"It was practically true," she replied. "But I also play the piano very
well," she said, "better, I expect than any one in this room. You are
the most distinguished man in England, aren't you?" she asked shyly.

"One of the three," he corrected.

Helen whirling past here tossed a fan into Rachel's lap.

"She is very beautiful," Hirst remarked.

They were again silent. Rachel was wondering whether he thought her also
nice-looking; St. John was considering the immense difficulty of talking
to girls who had no experience of life. Rachel had obviously never
thought or felt or seen anything, and she might be intelligent or
she might be just like all the rest. But Hewet's taunt rankled in his
mind--"you don't know how to get on with women," and he was determined
to profit by this opportunity. Her evening-clothes bestowed on her just
that degree of unreality and distinction which made it romantic to speak
to her, and stirred a desire to talk, which irritated him because he
did not know how to begin. He glanced at her, and she seemed to him
very remote and inexplicable, very