Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. A hansom stopped a little way off. All at once they came to the top, the faded blue sky overhead, and whichever way he looked, the horizon, the great rocking circle which hemmed them in. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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