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'There's Salsie! sang Hermione, in her slow, amusing sing-song. And laying down her work, she rose slowly, and slowly passed over the lawn, round the bushes, out of sight. 'Who is it? asked Gudrun. 'Mr Roddice Miss Roddice's brother at least, I suppose it's he, said Sir Joshua.
'Salsie, yes, it is her brother, said the little Contessa, lifting her head for a moment from her book, and speaking as if to give information, in her slightly deepened, guttural English. They all waited. And then round the bushes came the tall form of Alexander Roddice, striding romantically like a Meredith hero who remembers Disraeli.
There was a lull in the talk, as it was arrested by her unconscious but all-powerful will. 'Salsie, won't you play something? said Hermione, breaking off completely. 'Won't somebody dance? Gudrun, you will dance, won't you? I wish you would. Anche tu, Palestra, ballerai? si, per piacere. You too, Ursula.
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