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Updated: June 15, 2025
Wild inside; raging, writhing yes, "writhing" was the word, writhing with desire. But outwardly he was hopelessly tame; outwardly baa, baa, baa. There they were, Anne and Gombauld, moving together as though they were a single supple creature. The beast with two backs. And he sat in a corner, pretending to read, pretending he didn't want to dance, pretending he rather despised dancing. Why?
He lost his head, "I'm afraid," he mumbled, "I'm afraid this means I shall have to go back to town at once." He frowned at the telegram ferociously. "But that's absurd, impossible," cried Anne. She had been standing by the window talking to Gombauld; but at Denis's words she came swaying across the room towards him. "It's urgent," he repeated desperately.
"You won't," she retorted. "You've tried to take the most unfair advantage of me." "Unfair advantage?" echoed Gombauld in genuine surprise. "Yes, unfair advantage. You attack me after I've been dancing for two hours, while I'm still reeling drunk with the movement, when I've lost my head, when I've got no mind left but only a rhythmical body!
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