She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. 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. Gerald kicked the panelled wall in frustration. "Well, I will see him," replied the knight, after a moment's pause; "he may be from the Earl of Mar. I'm an old hand at such things.
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