In her belt the pink, heliotrope, and black-thorn
sprays; and Lionel was content with the picture as he opened the door
and came forward. Vaura was pouring out a cup of coffee for Lady
Esmondet, her shapely hands, so soft and white, coming from the cuffs
of muslin and lace (she never could be seduced into wearing the odious
stiff linen collar and cuff's some women's souls delight in).
Lionel thought: "Shall I ever call her wife, and when I come in have a
right to take these two dear hands in mine and press them to my heart
as I bend down to kiss her sweet mouth." He said, "_Bonjour_, ladies
fair. I have come to see how you are feeling after the revels of the
past night."
"And to refresh your own poor tired self with a cup of coffee,"
answered Vaura, handing him one.
"You see, Lionel," said Lady Esmondet, "we are waiting upon ourselves,
the maids are doing the necessary packing, as we have not altered our
plans to leave Paris at sundown; I hope we are not hurrying you away?"
"Not at all; did you leave me, I should follow by next express; there
would be nothing to hold me here, if you were gone.
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