CHAPTER XII. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. She threw hat and coat on the bed and sat down before the fire. She didn’t choose her man. " "But, mother, mayn't I sit up to see whether Thames returns?" implored Winifred. ‘That will be very helpful to me. It’s no half reform either. Come along, you mad jade. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope. ” Surprisingly she did show up to meet him that night, arriving at exactly 1:16 a. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one.
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