“Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. .
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