She could ask them to keep playing, but she won't. There is something comforting about this, about being the last; Edmund, even, has found his way back to his room. It is deeply late, and they keep dancing.

She doesn't recognize the song, but she is just tired enough that she presses her head against his chest, then, a scandalous embrace for the beginning of the night but at the end of it easily excused with tiredness and lack of witnesses.

"You are an excellent person to have beside me on a night like this one," she tells him, pleased beyond measure.