She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon.
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