He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. Then Capes’ footsteps approached. 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 must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin.
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