He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open. He had said so. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth.
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