" The elderly domestic bowed, took up the case, and retired. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. I’d need to be out of my senses. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof.
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