She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. "Not a moment is to be lost," cried Jack: "follow me. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way.
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