"Can you pull him through?" was the anxious question. Her husband was prouder of her every day. But she did not speak. “You did good!” She closed her eyes and rested in the moment, imagining a normal life where she would go to college, have babies with John, watch her children have children, live, and die as she had always wanted to. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. 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. White. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening. " "A terrible dream, indeed," said Jonathan thoughtfully. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste.
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