His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. There was absolute quiet. The fascination of the idea of throwing himself upon his knees and crying out all that was in his heart! As his eyes began to focus objects, he saw one of her arms extended upon the counterpane, in his direction, the hand clenched tightly. The perception of him flooded her being. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. Something in his tone pinched her heart. But I know very well that that word will never be spoken.
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