She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. “Child!” he cried. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. But how close? She glanced about at the shrouded furnishings for possible cover. I must go perhaps in all the rooms. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake.
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