Gerald instantly took her arm and guided her back to her chair. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. It’s—it’s a social difference. She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. Escape was now impossible.
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