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. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. "Sir Cecil is no more. But you will stay here?" "I dare not. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler.
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