Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him.
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