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looked up at Sam, her face urgent.
“Shall we dance, too?”
“What? This is music for the oldies,” Sam said scornfully.
“I don’t know how to dance to it.”
Kate laughed. “Just put your arms round Pallas and let
your feet move in time to the music,” she advised, and
added teasingly, “I won’t tell your friends when we get back
home. Cross my heart!”
Sam grimaced at her. “I shall feel a fool!”
“I know how to dance to it,” Pallas said shyly. “I learnt at
my last school—the waltz, the polka and the military two-
step.”
“Good grief!” Sam shuddered. “Did they wear chastity
belts, too? What a freaky establishment!”
Kate kicked his ankle. “Dance!” she commanded. He
grinned, shrugged, and got up, giving Pallas his hand with
a grimace of resignation.
Jean-Paul had watched and listened in silence. Now he
moved nearer Kate and said steadily, “And shall we dance
now, Kate?”
She nodded and they moved off, dancing very formally.
He danced, as he did other things, with precision and care.
Neatly his feet slid from step to step. He revolved, reversed,
guided her through the dance, a slight polite smile on his
well-cut lips, but not speaking.
Kate looked up at him. “You look as if you’re hating every
minute!” she said gently.
He looked down and the gravity of his expression melted
a little. “You dance very well, au contraire,” he murmured,
smiling.
