Mr. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. ‘Eh bien. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. But, in spite of her attractions, we shall address ourselves to the younger, and more interesting couple. Even our coarseness. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. One who—who—tres. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt.
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