After much clapping, they started. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. . Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. But this chap is good wine yet. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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