A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home. But it is my fault. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Michelle ate fast, and Lucy followed her lead, shoveling mashed potatoes and salmon down her gullet in a passionless frenzy.
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