She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. “I don’t understand. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. Monsieur Charvill, he is also my cousin. Now, you know where he is bound. " The woollen-draper replied by gallantly handing her the box, which was instantly snatched from her by Blueskin, who, after helping himself to as much of its contents as he could conveniently squeeze between his thumb and finger, put it very coolly in his pocket. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. "Far from, it, Sir. " "Not necessarily.
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