She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. John said nothing. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added.
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