Around and up the room swept the long file of low-cut gowns and pretty
faces, and step for step across the floor moved a similar line of
swallow-tail and masculinity. At the head of the room the two lines
curved together again, round meeting round, and here, in good time, the
lovely billow bore on Sharlee, who slipped her little left hand into
West's expectant right with the sweetest air in the world.
"Nobody but you, Charles Gardiner West," said she.
The whistle blew; the music changed; and off they went upon the dreamy
valse.
There are dancers in this world, and other dancers; but Sharlee was the
sort that old ladies stop and watch. Of her infinite poetry of motion it
is only necessary to say that she could make even "the Boston" look
graceful; as witness her now. In that large room, detectives could have
found men who thought Sharlee decidedly prettier than Miss Avery. Her
look was not languorous; her voice was not provocative; her eyes were
not narrow and tip-tilted; they did not look dangerous in the least,
unless you so regard all extreme pleasure derived from looking at
anything in the nature of eyes.
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