’ Madame Valade reseated herself, and Gerald set himself to flatter her into relaxation again. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. Sheppard had been interred. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door.
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