Save Me the Waltz

1
“Those girls,” people said, “think they can do anything and get away with it.”

hew the battlements of life from compromise

The savor of her first kiss was gone with the hope of its repetition.

“Alabama,” said David sententiously, “that’s impractical. You’ve become nothing but an aesthetic theory—a chemistry formula for the decorative.”

“There’s nothing we can do with two dollars anyway,” she protested in a logical tone.

“I s’pose not——”

New York was more full of reflections than of itself—the only concrete things in town were the abstractions

There they are, the Knights, dancing together,” they said, “isn’t it nice? There they go.”
“Listen, Alabama, you’re not keeping time,” David was saying.
“David, for God’s sake will you try to keep off of my feet?”
“I never could waltz anyway.”

People were tired of the proletariat—everybody was famous. All the other people who weren’t well known had been killed in the war; there wasn’t much interest in private lives.

Butterflies opened and shut along the roads like the flash of white in a camera lens.

His hands across her shoulders fit like the warm hollows

were of the slightest help