She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. And experience was slow in coming. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object.
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