“Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. "You must not remain here another instant," replied Thames. 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. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. "I'm going back for Ruth. That’s why I wanted your weapons.
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