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. The warm September sun fell strongly on this part of the grounds, uninterrupted by trees, its light bouncing off the glass in the mansion’s walls. "I am expected, I find," observed Jack, glancing at the well-covered board. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. He was still thickly clad in jeans.
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