Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough.
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