It was not often that he had a partner worthy of his best, and it was a semi-conscious habit of his never voluntarily to give better than he received.
But this little gipsy-girl of Scott's discovery called forth all his talent.

She did not want to talk.

She only wanted to dance, to spend herself in a passion of dancing that was an ecstasy beyond all speech.
She was as sensitive as a harp-string to his touch; she was music, she was poetry, she was charm.

The witchery of her began to possess him.

Her instant response to his mood, her almost uncanny interpretation thereof, became like a spell to his senses.