Then the storm broke. Things you would laugh at. She discovered him sitting upon the floor beside his open trunk. Ruth took hers in the sea, but was careful never to go beyond her depth because of the sharks. She was radiant. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. 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.
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