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. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you. Her sensitive ears could hear her foster mother snoring in front of the television. . ” “But it is too late,” she declared.
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