I’m sorry. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. “Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things.
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