So he had used to dance, once; she still could not ask if he missed it very much, because that was impertinent, and what if he did?, but she noted the fact about him, one small piece in the puzzle of a history.

And he was right, besides: there was the people watching. It was a relief he had admitted to it first – she liked to observe, it was where she felt safest and most adroit, learning to translate other people by their body language and expressions without any need to perform, herself. But one might equally have said it in a bad way, an activity reserved for the wallflowers and the gossips, so she was grateful if he hadn’t.

“Yes,” she said warmly, looking out at the dancers rather than at him – it was too close for comfort to do so for long from here. “I could be quite content doing that all night. It is amazing how much can be evident, even from a distance.” (The new lovers, with lingering looks across the party when they thought no one was looking; a debutante’s giddy, joyful laughter spilling out; weariness and misery easy to pick out in the shade of the enjoyment, muted pockets rounding out the liveliness of the place.)

She was more tentative, in her next question, after her fumble on the previous. “But I think you have been – away, for a time?” So that was – real distance.

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