A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. Hers is quite the most exclusive set in London. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head.
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