“Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. Your father…. Brendon. I looked upon you from the first as the most promising of my pupils. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “I’m fine,” she said softly. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood. “You, too,” he said abruptly. He was all alone, like herself.
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