Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. She floundered deep. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. But while there's life there's hope. I must apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of comment to the passers-by.
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