At last his voice came to release her tension. 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. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. “Heavens!” exclaimed Ann Veronica, with extraordinary passion. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean.
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