'I thought you liked the light fantastic.' 'Not like that,' she said, confused and bewildered, almost affronted.
Yet somewhere inside her she was fascinated by the sight of his loose, vibrating body, perfectly abandoned to its own dropping and swinging, and by the pallid, sardonic-smiling face above.

Yet automatically she stiffened herself away, and disapproved.

It seemed almost an obscenity, in a man who talked as a rule so very seriously.
'Why not like that ?' he mocked.

And immediately he dropped again into the incredibly rapid, slack-waggling dance, watching her malevolently.
And moving in the rapid, stationary dance, he came a little nearer, and reached forward with an incredibly mocking, satiric gleam on his face, and would have kissed her again, had she not started back.
'No, don't!' she cried, really afraid.
'Cordelia after all,' he said satirically.

She was stung, as if this were an insult.