Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. "What of that," rejoined Jonathan. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled.
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