It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. 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. ’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. Kneebone, I came hither as your guest. He looked at her reproachfully.
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