I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr.
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