Four photographs
all framed in decorous plain silver went to the anthracite's fierce
destruction--frames and all--and three packets of letters and notes in
a charming Florentine treasure-box of painted wood; nor was the box,
any more than the silver frames, spared this rousing finish. Thrown
heartily upon live coal, the fine wood sparkled forth in stars, then
burst into an alarming blaze which scorched the white mantelpiece, but
Lucy stood and looked on without moving.
It was not Eugene who told her what had happened at Isabel's door.
When she got home, she found Fanny Minafer waiting for her--a secret
excursion of Fanny's for the purpose, presumably, of "letting out"
again; because that was what she did. She told Lucy everything
(except her own lamentable part in the production of the recent
miseries) and concluded with a tribute to George: "The worst of it
is, he thinks he's been such a hero, and Isabel does, too, and that
makes him more than twice as awful. It's been the same all his life:
everything he did was noble and perfect.
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