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. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjE5MC4yMzkuMTMgLSAxMy0wNy0yMDI0IDAyOjMwOjE4IC0gMTc1MzQ1Njc0Mg==
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