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. He gurgled as if trying to communicate. ” He turned to the waiter, who held a wine-card. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried.
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