“I don’t want to take up your time. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. "Because it's not like you," was her answer. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of.
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