"I thought it best that you should imagine him. The Chinamen raised the limp body and carried it to the hall staircase, up which they mounted laboriously. Mr. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. "I guessed what was coming. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. Loneliness. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. He was consumed with desire.
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