This was held in
the Armory; and, past five o'clock, mounting the wide stone steps in
the early gloom and going through the bare echoing hall, he joined the
complacent mothers ranged in chairs pushed against the wall in a spirit
of interested attention. The Armory, following the general literal
interpretation of the sternness of military usage, was gaunt, with a
wide yellow floor and walls of unconcealed brick. In a far corner, on a
temporary and unpainted platform, the pianist sat with her hands
raised, her wrists rigid, preparatory to the next demand upon her
strongly accentuated playing. Lee was surprised at the large number of
children ranged in an irregular ring about the erect brittle presence
and insistent voice of the instructor.
What scant hair he possessed, carefully disposed to cover its
meagreness, was grey, and its color permeated, suggested, the tone of
his thin face. Surrounded by the cruel exuberance of the children, he
seemed incalculably worn, permanently weary, although he was
surprisingly sharp-eyed and adequate. It was, Lee thought
unsympathetically, a curiously negative occupation for a man; the small
graces of the dancing teacher, the bows gravely exchanged with childish
bows, the bent dancing with diminutive slips, the occasional fretful
tone of his voice, further alienated Lee Randon. But the children were
a source of entertainment and speculation.
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