The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. Her mother tried to soothe her with tales of romance and love, of all the fineries that she would enjoy in the Palazzo, but all Lucia could do was cry until her cheeks twitched and her forehead ached. ‘Very useful, of course. For the rest, she derived her ideas of the married state from the observed behavior of married women, which impressed her in Morningside Park as being tied and dull and inelastic in comparison with the life of the young, and from a remarkably various reading among books. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile. Yes.
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