They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. ” Lucy said, thinking of the Becks who worked around the clock just to keep a tiny house in the same neighborhood. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. It had, as it were, blown up at the concussion of his first step. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus.
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