He. Nor I. But I hope you did.  I am afraid it is nearly over, but we
  shall still have time for a turn. [They join the dancers.

She. Too many people here to-night to make waltzing pleasant.

He. Yes, it is rather crowded.  Shall we sit out?

She (thankfully, as he has not quite her step.) If you like.  And
  see, the band is bringing things to a conclusion.  Don’t you hate a
  cornet in so small a room as this?  So dreadfully loud, you know.

He. Quite.  Yes, I think it would have been better to have kept to
  the piano and the strings.

She. But the place is prettily decorated.  It must have cost them a
  lot, getting all these flowers.

He. I daresay.  No doubt they managed it by contract.  And lots of
  things come from Algeria nowadays.  You can get early vegetables in
  winter for next to nothing.

She. Yes, isn’t it lovely?  All these palms, I suppose, came from the
  Stores.

He. No doubt.  By the way, do you know the people of the house at
  all?

She. Not much.  Fact was, I was brought.  Couldn’t find either the
  host or hostess.  Such a crowd on the staircase, you know.

He. Yes.  Rather silly asking double the number of people the rooms
  will hold, isn’t it?

She. Awfully.  However, I suppose it pleases some folks.  I presume
  they consider it the swagger thing to do?

He. I suppose they do.  Do you know many people here?

She. Not a soul, or—­

He. You would not have spoken to me?

She. Well, no—­not exactly that.  But—­

He. You have no better excuse ready.  Quite.

She. How rude you are!  You know I didn’t quite mean that.

He. No, not quite.  Quite.

She. By the way, do you know what time it is?

He. Well, from the rooms getting less crowded, I fancy it must be
  the supper hour.  May I not take you down?

She. You are most kind!  But do you know the way?

He. I think so.  You see, I have learned the geography of the place
  fairly well.

She. How fortunate!  But if I accept your kindness, I think I should
  have the honour of knowing your name.

He. Certainly; my name is SMITH.

She. Any relation of the people who are giving the dance?

He. Well, yes.  I am giving the dance myself—­or rather, my wife is.

She. Oh, this is quite too delightful!  For now you can tell me what
  to avoid.

He. Certainly; and I have the pleasure of speaking to—?

She. You must ask my chaperon for my name.  You know, introductions
  are not the fashion.