We went to the Embassy. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. ’ He laughed. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Certainly you have a reason.
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