He was not bored, but his various emotions combined to produce this effect very plausibly.

He was dismayed at this sudden revelation of art in the dance so near him.

Imogene Pulver had once done an art dance back in Simsbury, at the cantata of Esther in the vestry of the Methodist church, and had been not a little criticised for her daring; but Imogene had been abundantly clad, and her gestures much more restrained.

He was trying now to picture how Gashwiler would take a thing like this, or Mrs.
Gashwiler, for that matter! One glimpse of those practically unclad bodies skipping and bounding there would probably throw them into a panic.

They couldn't have sat it through.