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"I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. Still —there you are!” He paused. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. ‘Precisely. ‘Suzanne, if I may say, had also not the choice. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray.
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