He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Just let him down easy, Lucy. I have calculated my chances, you perceive.
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