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. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. The perfume was the only one she ever used.
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