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. With her lived a Mrs. “Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. The horse-soldiers wheeled round and cleared a path: the foot closed in upon the cart. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy.
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