” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. ” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Besides," she added, blushing yet more deeply, "it isn't a proper one to talk upon. ” She had not, she reflected, remembered how prominent his eyes were. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you.
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