Standing close outside, they could see into the hall through the lattices of the screen. They saw forty or fifty couples whirling slowly round and round to the irresistible measure; some were stiff and awkward, palpably shy; some with invincible propriety whirled upright and rigid, like toys wound up to whirl; some were abandoned to the measure with madness, with passion, with a corybantic joy. Here and there a girl leaned as if swooning in her lover's arms; her head hung back; her lower lip drooped; her face showed the looseness and blankness of a sensuous stupor. Other faces, staring, upraised, wore a look of exaltation and of ecstasy. All were superbly unaware. Winny's face pressed closer and closer to the lattice. One of her little feet went tap-tapping on the gravel, beating the measure of the waltz. For at the sound of the music, at the sight of the locked and whirling couples, her memory revived; she heard again the beating of the measure old as time; she felt in her limbs the start and strain of the wild energy; and instinct, savage and shy, moved in the rhythm of her blood, and desire for the joy of the swift running, of the lacing arms and flying feet. In her body she was standing outside the Dancing Saloon at the Earl's Court Exhibition, with her face pressed to the lattice; she was twenty-seven last birthday in her body; but in her soul she was seventeen, and she stood on the floor of the Polytechnic Gymnasium, beating time to the thud of the barbell. She was Winny of the short tunic and the knickers, and the long black stockings, and had her hair (tied by a great bow of ribbon) in a door-knocker plat. "Oh, Ranny--" She looked at him with her shining eyes, half tender and half wild. "If we only _could_--" Something gave way in him and dissolved, and he was weak as water when he looked at her. The violins gave forth a penetrating, excruciating cry. And he felt in him the tumult evoked, long ago, one Sunday evening by the music in the Mission Church of St. Matthias's. Only he knew now what it meant. His voice went thick in his throat. "I mustn't, Winky. I daren't. Some day--you and I--" It was the supreme temptation of the great Enchantress; and they fled from it. The violins shrieked out and cried their yearning as they went. * * * * * A scud of rain lashed the carriage windows as their train shot out of the Underground at Walham Green. When they stepped out onto the platform at Southfields, the big drops leaped up at them. "Well, I never," said Winny. "Who'd have thought it would have done that?" They scuttled into shelter. "It'll be a score for Mother. She said it would come, and I said it wouldn't." "It'll ruin your new suit." "And there won't be much left of your dress." "My dress'll iron out again. It's me poor hat." (The Peggy hat was not made for rain.) "I'll take it off and pin it up in me skirt. It's you I'm thinking of."