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 young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. "I shall go back and finish my supper," said Mrs. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety.
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