Mary turned the gramophone handle and placed the needle gently on the spinning record.
“What are you playing?” Meg sat on the wide brown leather sofa in the library, thumbing through a magazine about society people and their lavish parties.
“The Southern Syncopated Orchestra.”
Dropping the magazine, Meg winced. “Isn’t it terrible what happened to them?”
“Terrible. So many of the orchestra lost … which convinces me never to travel by sea. Do you like them?”
“Very much.”
The music started and Mary pushed a Turkish carpet out of the way. She began to hobble and slide in an enthusiastic black bottom. “Come on, Meg, dance with me!”
She hesitated, then jumped up and added her own expert version to Mary’s slightly clumsy one.
“Oh, I say! You’re very good!”
“David taught me. He worked at
