CHAPTER XXIV. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. Surely his calculated desire to sit near her meant that his attention had surely been brought from its normal diversions into her realm. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them.
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