"They're not all the same," Bill said. "They dance differently to all the different tunes."
"It's swell dancing."
In front of us on a clear part of the street a company of boys were dancing. The steps were very intricate and their faces were intent and concentrated. They all looked down while they danced. Their rope-soled shoes tapped and spatted on the pavement. The toes touched. The heels touched. The balls of the feet touched. Then the music broke wildly and the step was finished and they were all dancing on up the street.
"Here come the gentry," Bill said.
They were crossing the street.
"Hello, men," I said.
"Hello, gents!" said Brett. "You saved us seats? How nice."
"I say," Mike said, "that Romero what'shisname is somebody. Am I wrong?"
"Oh, isn't he lovely," Brett said. "And those green trousers."
"Brett never took her eyes off them."
"I say, I must borrow your glasses to-morrow."
"How did it go?"
"Wonderfully! Simply perfect. I say, it is a spectacle!"
"How about the horses?"
"I couldn't help looking at them."
"She couldn't take her eyes off them," Mike said. "She's an extraordinary wench."
"They do have some rather awful things happen to them," Brett said. "I couldn't look away, though."
"Did you feel all right?"
"I didn't feel badly at all."
"Robert Cohn did," Mike put in. "You were quite green, Robert."
"The first horse did bother me," Cohn said.
"You weren't bored, were you?" asked Bill.
