“Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. A curious silence ensued. “I don’t take any prisoners, John! You do not want this life!” “Yes I do! I am an adult. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. I wanted the magic of love.
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