“Come to my rooms and have a drink. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. 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. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. It dropped sideways and fell with a bang to the table. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMjIuNTEuMjQxIC0gMDEtMDctMjAyNCAyMDo0NTozOCAtIDM0MjI3Mjk5OA==
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