And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. She held out both her hands. Both girls looked pale and listless. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. ‘All this gadding about. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. The streets were deserted as they drove past familiar sites. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. It heralded you, promised you. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be.
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