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She felt her canines growing. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. Any financial return was inconsiderable against the promise of this psychological treat. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom. 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. I shall now be able to test my skill.
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