” Lucy said, watching people mechanically pump quarters into the till. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. “We will do Paris like the tourists, and thank God here comes dinner. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. The chance had gone.
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