I don’t feel it. gutenberg. CHAPTER XXVI. “It’s something that bothers me. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. “In Paris. So then, the acquired is the livelier phase, being driven into action daily; whereas the inherent may lie dormant for months, even years. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more.
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