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. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants.
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