Leslie dropped into her
chair, laughing, breathless.
"I love dancing," she said apart to Anne. "I haven't
danced since I was sixteen--but I love it. The music
seems to run through my veins like quicksilver and I
forget everything--everything--except the delight of
keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me,
or walls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid
the stars."
Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a
large frame enclosing several banknotes.
"Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can
afford to hang his walls with banknotes for pictures?"
he asked. "There's twenty ten-dollar notes there, not
worth the glass over them. They're old Bank of P. E.
Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, and
I had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not
to put your trust in banks, and partly to give me a
real luxurious, millionairy feeling. Hullo, Matey,
don't be scared. You can come back now. The music and
revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just
another hour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six
New Years come in over that gulf yonder, Mistress
Blythe.
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