It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly.
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