” She eyed him scornfully. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. “I want you so much, Lucy. '" "Let me see," cried Jack, snatching the paper, and eagerly perusing the advertisement. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. ” Lucy looked at Michelle’s pretty face, rendered corpselike and frozen by unconsciousness. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying.
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