irst cousin, Thomas. I looked at Thomas, but
saw no hope of support. Thomas labours under the delusion that he can
jazz.

"It isn't only the dancing," I protested; "it's the conversational
strain. Besides, as one of the original founders of the League to
Minimise Gossip amongst General Staff Officers--"

"Rot!" said Thomas; "you simply let your partners do the talking.
You needn't even listen. Just say 'Quite' in your most official tone
whenever you hear them saying nothing."

Thomas, although my first cousin, is not bright; but I had to go.

For the first few dances I escaped; the crowd round the door was
so dense that I saw at once that I should be trampled to death if
I attempted to enter. Then I was caught by Mary and introduced to
a total stranger.

I suppose there are people who do not mind kicking a total stranger
round the room to the strain of cymbals, a motor siren and a
frying-pan. I fancy the lady expressed a desire to stop, but as her
words were lost in the orchestral pandemonium I realised that as long
as the dulcet chords continued conversation was impossible; so we
danced on.

Fortunately too, when the interval came, she was full of small-talk.

"Isn't the floor good? And I always like this band."

"Quite," said I.

"Rather sporting of the Smythe-Joneses to give a dance."

"Quite," said I.

"Especially when their eldest boy, the one, you know, who was so
frightfully good at golf or something, has just got into a mess
with--"

"Quite," said I, while she plunged into a flood of reminiscences.
She did not ask whether I could jazz, mainly, I think, because I had
already danced with her. I concentrated my thoughts on the best means
of avoiding Mary when the music began again, and just threw in an
occasional "Quite" to keep the lady in a good temper.

But there was no escaping Mary.

"You _must_ go and dance with Miss Carter," she told me, adducing
incontrovertible arguments. I am terrified of Miss Carter, who can
only be described as "statuesque" and always does the right thing
(which makes her crushing to the verge of discourtesy). I am always
being asked if I know whether she is "only twenty-two." It was not
without satisfaction that I initiated her into my style of dancing.

To my horror, when we stopped she sat in silence, regarding me with
an air of expectant boredom. I racked my brains.

"Good floor, isn't it?" said I.

"Quite," said Miss Carter.

"Jolly good band too."

"Quit