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The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. She drew her naked arms around herself. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. “How do you feel?” she asked. ’ Lucilla gaped. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock.
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