"_Some_ are born dancers," corrected Cecilia, "others achieve
dancing."
"Well, I'm not going to have it thrust on me any way," retorted John.
"I never have liked dancing and I never shall. I haven't danced for
years and years and I don't intend to. I don't know any of these
new-fangled dances and I don't want to."
"Don't be so obstinate," said Cecilia. "What you want doesn't matter.
You've got to learn, so you may as well give way decently. Come along
now, I'll play for you, and Margery will show you the steps."
"If Margery attempts to show me the steps I shall show her the door.
I won't be bullied in my own house. Why don't you make your brother
dance, if somebody must?" said John, waving his arm at me.
"Come on, Alan," said Margery; "we can't waste our time on him. Come
and show him how it's done."
"My dear little sister," I said sweetly, "I should simply love it, but
the fact is--I can't."
"Can't," echoed Margery. "Why not?"
"I hate to mention these things," I explained, "but the fact is I
took part in a war that has been on recently, and I have a bad hip,
honourable legacy of same.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31