had been put away with rosemary leaves from
Mr. Jensen's garden.

There were never girls enough to go round
at those dances, but every one wanted a turn
with Tony and Lena. Lena moved without
exertion, rather indolently, and her hand often
accented the rhythm softly on her partner's
shoulder. She smiled if one spoke to her, but
seldom answered. The music seemed to put
her into a soft, waking dream, and her violet-
colored eyes looked sleepily and confidingly at
one from under her long lashes. When she
sighed she exhaled a heavy perfume of sachet
powder. To dance "Home, Sweet Home," with
Lena was like coming in with the tide. She
danced every dance like a waltz, and it was
always the same waltz -- the waltz of coming
home to something, of inevitable, fated return.
After a while one got restless under it, as one
does under the heat of a soft, sultry summer
day.

When you spun out into the floor with
Tony, you didn't return to anything. You
set out every time upon a new adventure. I
liked to schottische with her; she had so much
spring and variety, and was always putting
in new steps and slides. She taught me to

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v?