Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. You never can tell. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. “You are quite right, I think. John eased off. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. ’ She spread her hands. And this is not France, you understand.
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