Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. I said as how I’d tell Mr Jarvis as he wanted to take you away. 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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