It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. ’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla. For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, And the choicest of wine is my colour; And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues The fuller I fill it—the fuller! IV.
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