he is taking a course of lessons in the modern dance, but it is not
easy to think of them. Physically, his new experience caused Henry
acute pain. Muscles whose existence he had never suspected came into
being for--apparently--the sole purpose of aching. Mentally he suffered
even more.

This was partly due to the peculiar method of instruction in vogue at
Mme Gavarni's, and partly to the fact that, when it came to the actual
lessons, a sudden niece was produced from a back room to give them. She
was a blonde young lady with laughing blue eyes, and Henry never
clasped her trim waist without feeling a black-hearted traitor to his
absent Minnie. Conscience racked him. Add to this the sensation of
being a strange, jointless creature with abnormally large hands and
feet, and the fact that it was Mme Gavarni's custom to stand in a
corner of the room during the hour of tuition, chewing gum and making
comments, and it is not surprising that Henry became wan and thin.

Mme Gavarni had the trying habit of endeavouring to stimulate Henry by
frequently comparing his performance and progress with that of a
cripple whom she claimed to have taught at some previous time.

She and the niece would have spirited arguments in his presence as to
whether or not the cripple had one-stepped better after his third
lesson than Henry after his fifth. The niece said no. As well, perhaps,
but not better. Mme Gavarni said that the niece was forgetting the way
the cripple had slid his feet. The niece said yes, that was so, maybe
she was. Henry said nothing. He merely perspired.

He made progress slowly. This could not be blamed upon his
instructress, however. She did all that one woman could to speed him