"Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled.
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