Part 35 (1/2)

The supernatural creature had been rehearsing until 3 a.m., she had been trying on clothes from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. She had borne the chief weight of _Smack Your Face_, on her unique shoulders for nearly three hours and a half. She had changed into an unforgettable black ball-dress, cut to demonstrate in the clearest fas.h.i.+on that her shoulders had suffered no harm; and here she was as fresh as Aphrodite from the foam. She immediately set herself to bear the chief weight of the ball on those same defenceless shoulders; for she was, in theory at any rate, the leading organiser of the affair, and according to the entire press it was ”her” ball. As soon as he saw her Mr. Prohack had a most ridiculous fear lest she should pick him out for a dance, and to protect himself he said ”All right” to his daughter.

A fox-trot announced itself. In his own drawing-room, with the door locked, Mr. Prohack could and did treat a fox-trot as child's play. But now he realised that he had utterly forgotten every movement of the infernal thing. Agony as he stood up and took his daughter's hand! An awful conviction that everybody (who was anybody) was staring to witness the Terror of the departments trying to jazz in public for the first time. A sick, sinking fear lest some of his old colleagues from the Treasury might be lurking in corners to guy him! Agony as he collected himself and swayed his body slightly to catch the rhythm of the tune!

Where in heaven's name was the first beat in the bar?

”Walk first,” said Sissie professionally.... He was in motion.

”Now!” said Sissie. ”_One_, two. _One_, two.” Miraculously he was dancing! It was as though the whole room was shouting: ”They're off!”

Sissie steered him.

”Don't look at your feet!” said she sharply, and like a schoolboy he chucked his chin obediently up.... Then he was steering her. Although her feet were the reverse of enormous he somehow could not keep off them; but that girl was made of hardy stuff and never winced. He was doing better. Pride was puffing him. Yet he desired the music to stop.

The music did stop.

”Thanks,” he breathed.

”Oh, no!” said she. ”That's not all.” The dancers clapped and the orchestra resumed. He started again. Couples surged around him, and sometimes he avoided them and sometimes he did not. Then he saw a head bobbing not far away, as if it were one cork and he another on a choppy sea. It resembled Eve's head. It was Eve's head. She was dancing with Oswald Morfey. He had never supposed that Eve could dance these new dances.

”Let's stop,” said he.

”Certainly not,” Sissie forbade. ”We must finish it.” He finished it, rather breathless and dizzy. He had lived through it.

”You're perfectly wonderful, Arthur,” said Eve when they met.

”Oh no! I'm no good.”

”I was frightfully nervous about you at first,” said Sissie.

He said briefly:

”You needn't have been. I wasn't.”

A little later Eve said to him:

”Aren't you going to ask _me_ to dance, Arthur?”

Dancing with Eve was not quite like dancing with Sissie, but they safely survived deadly perils. And Mr. Prohack perspired in a very healthy fas.h.i.+on.

”You dance really beautifully, dear,” said Eve, benevolently smiling.

After that he cut himself free and roamed about. He wanted to ask Eliza Fiddle to dance, and also he didn't want to ask her to dance. However, he had apparently ceased to exist for her. Ozzie had introduced him to several radiant young creatures. He wanted to ask them to dance; but he dared not. And he was furious with himself. To dance with one's daughter and wife was well enough in its way, but it was not the real thing. It was without salt. One or two of the radiances glanced at him with inviting eyes, but no, he dared not face it. He grew gloomy, gloomier.

He thought angrily: ”All this is not for me. I'm a middle-aged fool, and I've known it all along.” Life lost its savour and became repugnant.

Fatigue punished him, and simultaneously reduced two hundred and fifty thousand pounds to the value of about fourpence. It was Eve who got him away.

”Home,” he called to Carthew, after Eve and Sissie had said good-bye to Ozzie and stowed themselves into the car.

”Excuse me,” said Sissie. ”You have to deliver me at the Grand Babylon first.”