It depresses one, you know. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. "And will swear to it?" "I will. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. Do take them away from me after I have had four. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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