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He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. .

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