"Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now.
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