“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. Jack fell on his knees beside her. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened—Shotbolt's note having been received just before. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. “They never seem so at first!” he said. “Go on!” she commanded. “Hold on. "Dear me!" she added, as she pledged the amorous woollen-draper, "what a beautiful ring that is.
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