"What kind of dancing?" asked Jill with a slight frown, as the
twinkling music suddenly stopped.

"Guess we can't tell you!" replied the American mother, whose corsets
were not in exact accord with the cushions upon which she sat,
breathing heavily from her upper whaleboned register.

"_Nous espérons le mieux_," said the Frenchman, winking at the dragoman.

And that moment they were enlightened.

The two English women emitted each a little screech, the American
mother caught convulsively at her daughter, who coldly raised her
long-handled lorgnettes the more fully to survey the picture before
her. The Australian girl sat quiet, as did the Englishman who had been
there before; the Italian ejaculated "_Per dio_," and the Frenchman
"_Mon Dieu_," as the widow, pulling one side of her veil across her
face, hid her over-crimson mouth, but in no way impeded her view,
whilst Jill looked round hastily for a way of escape, but suddenly
remembering the certain peril in the street decided, as she edged as
far as possible from the marchese, to sit out the difficulties of the
moment.




CHAPTER VIII

To natives, a dressed or undressed dancer is nothing more than a