She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. They’ll know. 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. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. No, not one little bit. ‘You imbecile.
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