She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand. I do not understand why you and your sister should not see more of one another. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies.
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