" "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. 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. For a few moments Mr. He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her.
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