She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. “You wish me to stay?” he asked, in a low tone. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. The Disguise. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not.
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