A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. Wood. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face. See what you have made of me. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart.
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