The bridge was open. ” He paused, with his eyes studying her gravely. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. Her head rose. Women, she had been taught, who exposed the flesh of their bodies under the eyes of man were in a special catagory of the damned. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. . \" Lucy felt her face go hot, but at the same time raised her eyebrows, relaying a tacit acknowledgement of her own distressed appearance. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all.
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