It was too good to be true. Non. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. " There was another pause. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. " "Thames," said Sheppard in a low voice, as he threw a vindictive glance at the carpenter, "I shan't forget this.
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