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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. Monroe would lock the whole group of us in the basement, every day. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage.
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