The perception of him flooded her being. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Her teachers and mistresses had done their best to stamp her mind with an ineradicable persuasion that it was tremendously important, and on no account to be thought about. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently.
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