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above a pair of fine dark brows, was a band of silvery hair, rather coquettishly arranged. "It is my portrait," said her daughter, as Longueville drew near. "This gentleman has been sketching me." "Sketching you, dearest?" murmured her mother. "Wasn't it rather sudden?" "Very sudden—very abrupt!" exclaimed the young girl with a laugh. "Considering all that, it's very good," said Longueville, offering his picture to the elder lady, who took it and began to examine it. "I can't tell you how
circumstances mattered nothing, and as he could not make it up to her, the only reasonable thing was to keep out of her way. He had stepped into her path now, and the proper thing was to step out of it. If it could give her no pleasure to see him again, it could certainly do him no good to see her. He had seen her by this time pretty well—as far as mere seeing went, and as yet, apparently, he was none the worse for that; but his hope that he should himself escape unperceived had now become acute.
yet. The consideration of consequences could easily be deferred, and there would, meanwhile, be no injury to any one in his extracting, very quietly, a little subjective joy from the state of his heart. He would let the flower bloom for a day before plucking it up by the roots. Upon this latter course he was perfectly resolved, and in view of such an heroic resolution the subjective interlude appeared no more than his just privilege. The project of leaving Blanquais-les-Galets at nine o'clock in
clever indeed, and an excellent companion; but the real measure of his brilliancy was in the success with which he entertained himself. He was much addicted to conversing with his own wit, and he greatly enjoyed his own society. Clever as he often was in talking with his friends, I am not sure that his best things, as the phrase is, were not for his own ears. And this was not on account of any cynical contempt for the understanding of his fellow-creatures: it was simply because what I have called
Bernard did not do the same. "And Bernard?" he exclaimed. "I shall ask him to leave Paris," said Angela. "Will you go?" "I will do what Angela requests," said Bernard. "You have heard what she requests; it's for you to come now." "Ah, you must at least allow me to take leave!" cried Bernard. Gordon went to the door, and when he had opened it he stood for a while, holding it and looking at his companions. Then— "I assure you she won't he long!" he said to Angela, and rapidly passed out.