The elastic spirits of youth resumed their sway; and, before the coach stopped, his tears had ceased to flow. ‘Oh, my God, she’s gone!’ Wrenching his hand from his friend’s slackened grasp, he darted for the door, Roding behind him. In this state it would have been all over with him, as, being stunned by the fall, it was some moments before he could recover himself, if another party had not unexpectedly come to his rescue. It looks so French to be affectionate. All the same, I don’t admit it.
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