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. He had gained admission somehow, and he too was waiting for Anna. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. But I proved it to them! Oh yeah, I told John, but I don’t think he believes me either.
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