Seated at tables around the three sides of the hall unoccupied by the band, were parties of white people, parties of coloured people, mixed parties, but the amber light which flooded the gold and black hall gave everybody present much the same complexion, save one brown girl who had put on too much powder and consequently looked dirty green.
In the centre of the dance floor, a sinewy, male dancer, hair sleek and oiled, was performing the Charleston.
I'm Charleston crazy!
Buddy, I'm with you! cried Lasca, a she stepped on to the floor.
The crowd applauded her appearance. Some one cried, Strut your stuff, Lasca!
I'm going to Charleston back to Charleston!
Lasca tossed her heels back and danced with the utmost abandon.
Do that thing!
Camel walk!
Pull 'em down!
Pick cherries!
She lifted her short skirt of champagne-coloured
