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"Well--where I have my hand on your back. If I think there isn't anything
underneath my hand--no can, no legs [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], no feet, no anything--then the girl's really a terrific
dancer."
She wasn't listening, though. So I ignored her for a while. We just danced. God,
could that dopey girl dance. Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing "Just One of
Those Things" and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any
trick stuff while we danced--I hate a guy that does a lot of show-off tricky stuff on the
dance floor--but I was moving her around plenty, and she stayed with me. The funny
thing is, I thought she was enjoying it [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], too, till all of a sudden she came out with this very
dumb remark. "I and my girl friends saw Peter Lorre last night," she said. "The movie
actor. In person. He was buyin' a newspaper. He's cute."
"You're lucky," I told her. "You're really lucky. You know that?" She was really a
moron. But what a dancer. I could hardly stop myself from sort of giving her a kiss on the
top of her dopey head--you know-- right where the part is, and all. She got sore when I
did it.
"Hey! What's the idea?"
"Nothing. No idea. You really can dance [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," I said. "I have a yilai:
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