\" He looked crestfallen. "I'm not worth it. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. “When one is happy—I don’t like to think of them. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. He turned his back on that temptation. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing.
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