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. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist.
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