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