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. She had started wearing the dresses he bought for her, the white and blue shift he said, “brings out the color in your eyes”. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders.
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