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. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. "Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish. I'm told he's so handsome.
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