"The natives have foolish ways of saying things. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. ‘Do you need an excuse?’ ‘Oh, you know what doctors are. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. ’ So that was it. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. “Listen! There was a Meysey Hill in Paris, an American railway millionaire. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Once more he was the searcher. “My first love was all blundering,” said Capes. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. Most unsatisfactory. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes.
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