The image did not move. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. Lucy was charmed; how peaceful the baby looked. Close upon this came another thought.
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