" "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. “Yes?” he said. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. D'ye hear. Some had the dignity and the aloofness of a rock in the sea; and others were as the polished pebbles on the sands—one saw the difference of pebble from pebble only by close scrutiny. Lucy’s solos were exquisite in their precision and expression. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom.
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