It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. I’ve told you that practically already. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Well, I'll have a look-see at this young De Maupassant. We were going at a mad pace.
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