She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. "I yield to fate. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. She ought to have leapt back on guard. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe.
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