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Updated: May 1, 2025
And I shall write to-day and tell her of your goodness to me." Miss Justine Delande's eyes were downcast. Her agitated bosom was throbbing with an unaccustomed fire, and the desire to be safely sheltered once more in Hugh Johnstone's marble palace was now strong upon her. Hawke paused, still keeping his pleading eyes fixed upon the fluttering-hearted woman's face.
I hear there is to be a grand supper afterwards somewhere, and I have no doubt I shall be presented to a number of ladies who will speak for the first time to an actress and be possessed with a wild fear; only, if they have daughters, I suppose they will keep the fluttering-hearted young things out of the way, lest I should suddenly break out into blue flame, and then disappear through the floor.
"It is for rank, wealth, and the hand of Miss Million, the rose of Delhi." Alan Hawke was practically received with open arms by the fluttering-hearted Euphrosyne, who nobly resigned herself to Justine's victory over Alan Hawke's heart. For the younger sister's letters had filled the elder's mind with rosy dreams of enhanced family prosperity. "Only this telegram.
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