The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. ” He made quite a long pause, and went on, with a sigh: “You have a voting paper given you—” They emerged into the publicity of the lawn. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers.
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