" "But you can imagine it. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. “We have come too close together for me to believe it. \"Has your heart melted, Lucia? Can you see the purposefulness of your future?\" Marina asked. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Tears flowed in rivulets down 121 her cheeks and she began to cry. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. Never mind. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. I’ll buzz him for you. ‘She knows them. ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand.
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