Титан

F. A. Cowperwood, Guardian

           Icouldbreakoneengagement,though,somewhere."

           "Notforme,though,please,"pleadedCowperwood."Idon’tcaretodanceanymore,thankyou."

           Healmosthatedheratthemomentforachillycat.Andyethedidnot.

           "Why,Bevy,howyoutalk!Ithinkyouareactingverybadlythisevening."

           "Please,please,"pleadedCowperwood,quitesharply."Notanymore.Idon’tcaretodanceanymore."

           Bevylookedathimoddlyforamomentasinglethoughtfulglance.

           "ButIhaveadance,though,"shepleaded,softly."Iwasjustteasing.Won’tyoudanceitwithme?

           "Ican’trefuse,ofcourse,"repliedCowperwood,coldly.

           "It’sthenextone,"shereplied.

           Theydanced,buthescarcelysoftenedtoheratfirst,soangrywashe.Somehow,becauseofallthathadgonebefore,hefeltstiffandungainly.Shehadmanagedtobreakinuponhisnaturalsavoirfairethischitofagirl.Butastheywentonthroughasecondhalfthespiritofherdancingsoulcaughthim,andhefeltmoreatease,quiterhythmic.Shedrewcloseandswepthimintoastrangeunisonwithherself.

           "Youdancebeautifully,"hesaid.

           "Iloveit,"shereplied.Shewasalreadyofanagreeableheightforhim.

           Itwassoonover."Iwishyouwouldtakemewheretheicesare,"shesaidtoCowperwood.

           Heledher,halfamused,halfdisturbedatherattitudetowardhim

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