She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. The dance itself was anticlimactic, with teenagers trying their best to look the part of adult sophisticates on the dance floor. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy.
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