He loved you. ’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. ’ For the moment I thought it was a telegram from Gwen. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. She looked at him curiously.
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