"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. "With your friends, dear Mrs. 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. I mystify you; I can see that. Where was the expected message from this captain, who had promised to send her word at the instant Gerald returned to town.
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