She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. "Untie his arms, and take off that handkerchief. So here is your chance, Mademoiselle Charvill. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity.
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