"I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. Returning in moments, Mr. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. “You poor child!” he said; “don’t you see the infinite folly of these proceedings? Think! Think of the love and affection you abandon! Think of your aunt, a second mother to you. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris.
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