‘You will like to marry me, yes?’ she pursued. As he was about to descend his chains slightly rattled. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. 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. .
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