155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. She looked down at him and saw that the sunlight was gleaming from his cheeks, and that all over his cheeks was a fine golden down of delicate hairs. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. . Figg?" asked Gay. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one.
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