Then Mr. Kantor broke into an actual tarantella of rage, his hands palms up and dancing.

He had given the book his every emotion, and discovered it gave nothing back; but had shaken, terrified, played furious tarantellas upon his feelingsand replenished naught.

He became aware of her then, threw her a laugh, quickened to a mad tarantella that nearly whirled her off her feet, finally ended with a crashing chord, and whizzed round on the music-stool in time to catch her as she fell gasping against him.