"Yes, I have
one, only one; it is this."
He put his arm round her, and as he did so her eyes half closed and her
lip quivered at his touch. Stafford waltzed well, and Maude was far and
away the best dancer in the room; they moved as one body in the slow
and graceful modern waltz, and Stafford, in the enjoyment of this
perfect poetry of motion, forgot everything, even his partner; but he
came back from his reverie as she suddenly paused.
"Are you tired?" he asked. "By George! how perfectly you waltz! I've
never enjoyed a dance more."
A faint colour rose to her face--it had been very pale a moment
before--and she looked at him with an earnestness which rather puzzled
him.
"They say that to agree in waltzing is an unfortunate thing for those
who wish to be friends."
"Do they?" he said, with a smile. "I wonder who it is says all those
silly things? Now, what nonsense this one is, for instance! To enjoy a
dance as I've just enjoyed this, puts a man in a good temper with
himself and his partner; and, of course, makes him feel more friendly.
I'm not a good logician, but that sounds all right, doesn't it?"
"Yes," she said in a low voice.
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