Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. She licked his neck, which put him over the top. But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. ‘Come, cry a truce. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady.
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