She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. 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. Anna suddenly leaned forward and looked around her. But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story.
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