They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. “Please forgive me, Lucy. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!.
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