Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. “Lucy, I have to talk to you. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself.
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