‘He wanted me also to run away with him, and I wish very much that I had done so. The thought of Capes flooded her being like long-veiled sunlight breaking again through clouds. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher.
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