ompromising familiarity in this breaking down of old social restraints
through the insidious influence of the tea room, with its accompaniments
of music and dancing.

"I suppose," remarked Craig after we had for some time settled ourselves
and watched the brilliant scene, "that, like many others, Walter, you
have often wondered whether these modern dances are actually as
stimulating as they seem."

I shrugged my shoulders non-committally.

"Well, there is what psychologists might call a real dance neurosis," he
went on, contemplatively, toying with a glass. "In fact few persons can
withstand the physical effect of the peculiar rhythm, the close contact,
and the sinuous movements--at least where, so to speak, the surroundings
are suggestive and the dance becomes less restrained and more sensuous,
as it does often in circumstances like these, often among strangers."

The music had started again and one after another couples seemed to
float past in unhesitating hesitation--dowager and debutante, dandy and
doddering octogenarian.

"Why," he exclaimed, looking out at the whirling kaleidoscope, "here in
the most advanced epoch, people of culture and intelligence frankly say
they are 'wild' for something primitive."

"Still," I objected, "dancing even in the wild, stimulating emotional
manner you see here need not be merely an incitement to love, need it?
May it not be a normal gratification of the love instinct--eroticism
translated into rhythm? Perhaps it may represent sex, but not
necessarily badly."

Kennedy nodded. "Undoubtedly the effect of the dances is in direct ratio
to the sexual temperament of the dancer," he admitted.

He paused and again watched the whirl.

"Does Mrs. Seabury herself understand it?" he mused, only half speaking
to me. "I'm sure that this Sherburne is clever enough to do so, at any
rate."

A hearty round of applause came from the dancers as the music ceased.
None left the floor, however, but remained waiting for the encore
eagerly, scarcely changing the positions in which they had stopped.

"To my mind," Kennedy resumed, with the music, "several things seem
significant. Many people have noticed that after marriage women
generally lose much of their ardor for dancing. I feel that it is an
unsafe matter on which to generalize, but--well--Mrs. Seabury seems not
to have lost it."

"Then," I inquired quickly, "you imply that--she is not really as much
in love with her husband as she would