"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. 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 body of Sir Rowland was then laid on the large table. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. ‘Long enough for you to see Frith for me.
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