\" Lucy replied sardonically. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. “It may be more difficult than you think,” she said. He donned his winter coat. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. I wish that it worked. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. “Well, I have said what I had to say, stumblingly and badly, and baldly.
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