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’s the wonder of it. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. I’ve got to have you, and by God I will. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. Miss Mary being his only child ’an all, he were in a right pelter.
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