"The story of The Moor’s Pavane was distilled from Shakespeare, but it was less about plot and more about pathos," says Fritz, adding that this tells you about modern dance’s mandate to "communicate something about the human spirit."

With such a hefty, individualistic mandate, many techniques of modern dance proved resistant to transplant and disappeared when their inventors stopped teaching. In fact, it’s often said that Limón’s technique has been the only one to survive intact after the death of its founder. Surely this makes Betty and Fritz’s presence in Hawaii all the more stunning. How do you keep them in this little local neighborhood after they’ve looked out at the world over the big footlights? The question hangs in the air as Betty pulls out yet another memento: a photo of her in the East Wing of the White House, where she danced at Lyndon Johnson’s reception for the King of Morocco.

"Actually, there is a story I have for you," begins Fritz slyly, only to be headed off by Betty, who rolls her eyes and says, "He likes to say we were shipwrecked here."

In tandem, they tell the story of a serendipitous overnight stay they enjoyed on their return from performing in Asia. There was a papaya breakfast on the lanai. There was the way the colorful orchids cascaded out of lava rock. "Let’s just say we fell in love with the people and the place, and we have a way of letting life unfold," says Betty, offering yet more evidence to support what their presence suggests: When you let dance into your life, your life becomes a dance.