I should never know much about him.
I have no intelligence where he is concerned--only a strong, stupid
feeling, which is not like a feeling of my own. I am no longer Betty
Vanderpoel--and I wish to go on dancing with him--on and on--to the last
note, as he said."
She felt a little hot wave run over her cheek uncomfortably, and the
next instant the big arm tightened its clasp of her--for just one
second--not more than one. She did not know that he, himself, had seen
the sudden ripple of red colour, and that the equally sudden contraction
of the arm had been as unexpected to him and as involuntary as the quick
wave itself. It had horrified and made him angry. He looked the next
instant entirely stiff and cold.
"He did not know it happened," Betty resolved.
"The music is going to stop," said Mount Dunstan. "I know the waltz. We
can get once round the room again before the final chord. It was to be
the last note--the very last," but he said it quite rigidly, and Betty
laughed.
"Quite the last," she answered.
The music hastened a little, and their gliding whirl became more
rapid--a little faster--a little faster still--a running sweep of notes,
a big, terminating harmony, and the thing was over.
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