‘I think that was what began his downfall. That was an admission all right. I always fall on my feet, you know. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. Lord, I am sixty. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true.
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