She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. ‘Point it at me. 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. And for many years, that was the way it was. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood.
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