The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. . It was the grand nursery of vice.
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