50 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



into a smile. The odds are she will put you to 

 the blush with the sharp question, " Anything 

 wrong ? " 



The first time that I had the honour of a valse 

 with this young lady, I committed a breach of eti- 

 quette. She danced admirably. I — well, no man 

 is bound to incriminate himself — I did my best. 

 But, after circling twice round the room (the night 

 was sultry), I stopped and began to talk. She 

 seemed provoked at something, answered in mono- 

 syllables, and when I said, " Shall we go on danc- 

 ing ? " replied curtly, •* That 's what we 're here for." 

 After a couple of turns I stopped again, and then 

 my lady Disdain, out of the fulness of her heart, 

 spoke : — 



" It 's not hard to tell that you 're an Englishman." 



"Thank you," said I. "My dancing betrays me." 



" Yes, it does. No, no, I don't mean that. You 

 dance fairly well, but — " 



For a couple of minutes she would jiot budge from 

 her " but." Finally, she was constrained to entire 

 frankness. Why had I stopped twice without con- 

 sulting her convenience ? I was so paralysed with 

 amazement that I had no answer pat, save the ob- 

 vious one. I had stopped — so I said — because, in 

 my opinion, it was better to stop than to fall down. 



" Giddy ? " she demanded incredulously. 



" Yes ; giddy." 



" American men never get giddy," she observed, 

 after a significant pause. 



"If they did," I submitted, "would they stop 

 without consulting their partner ? " 



" They would go till they dropped," she retorted. 



