Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. “I don’t have time for this. She was too late. Since Mary predeceased Jarvis, Nicholas could scarcely argue himself to be my brother’s next of kin.
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