We married, and for a time we were happy. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. But I'll not believe it of you. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. "But I'll yet disappoint you. \" Lucy shook her hand. He told me that he was a millionaire.
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