The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. It does not matter to him either way. \"What's that?\" Lucy asked. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. "You mistake,—you are mine. Still—I don’t know whether I quite like—Something ramshackle about those people, Vee. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. It’s Italian. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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