Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. Not I. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. For his own part he could not sufficiently admire the pluck of this lady, who, notwithstanding all that she had been through, had chosen to appear this evening rather than break her engagement.
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