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She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company.
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