Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. But it’s as you say. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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