“You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. She looked at him mournfully. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. I have come to take you home; and hereafter my word will be the law. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. I’m sorry Lucy.
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