277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. "No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. ” He snarled.
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