In the drawing-room, Roddy and Mariella moved like a dream, smoothly turning, pausing and swaying, quite silent. ‘Well, shall we?’ Martin smiled down at her. Now she must confess. ‘I can’t, Martin, I don’t know how. I’ve never learnt. I haven’t ever----’ Shame and despair flooded her. ‘Oh, you’ll soon learn,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Come and try.’ ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’ She glanced at the competent interweaving feet of Mariella and Roddy, at Marietta’s slender back pivoting gracefully from the hips, at Roddy’s composed dancing-face and shoulders. She could not let them see her stumbling and struggling. ‘Well, come and practise in the hall. Here now. Can you hear the music? Follow me. This is a fox-trot. Look, your feet between my feet. Now just go backwards, following my movements. Don’t think about it. If you step on my feet it’s my fault and _vice versa_. Now--short, _long_, short, two short. Don’t keep your back so stiff,--quite free and supple but quite upright.’ ‘Do it by yourself,’ said Judith perspiring with anxiety. ‘Then I can see.’ He chasséd solemnly round the hall, pausing now and then to show her how he brought his feet together; then, with a firm hand on her shoulder-blades he made her follow him. ‘That’s good. It’s coming. Oh, good! Sorry, that was my fault. You’ve got the trick now.’ All at once the music had got into her limbs; it seemed impossible not to move to it. ‘But you can!’ said Martin, letting her go and beaming at her in joyful surprise. ‘Come back into the drawing-room,’ said Judith, exalted. They went. ‘Now,’ she said trembling. Martin put his arm round her and they glided off. It was easier than walking, it was more delicious than swimming or climbing; her body had always known how it was done. Martin looked down at her with eloquent eyes and said: ‘You know, you’re marvellous. I didn’t know anyone could learn so quickly.’ ‘It’s because I’ve had such a good teacher,’ she said sweetly. They went on dancing, and every now and then she looked up and smiled at him and his eyes shone and smiled in answer, happy because of her pleasure. He really was a dear. In his looks he had improved beyond expectation. He was still a little red, a little coltish and untidy, but his figure was impressive, with powerful heavy shoulders and narrow hips; and the muscles of his thigh and calf bulged beneath his trousers. His head with the brown wings of hair brushed flat and straight on it, was finely set, his eyes were dark and warm, kindly rather than intelligent; his nose was biggish and thick, his mouth long, thin and rather ineffectual, with a faint twitch at one corner,--the corner that lifted first, swiftly, when he smiled his frequent shy smile. His teeth were magnificent; and he smelt a little of Virginian cigarettes. ‘You must dance with Roddy,’ said Martin. ‘He’s ever so much better than I am.’