1 No, she must fight her way out alone.
2 "I am here alone with you," she said.
3 "I came here because I couldn't bear to be alone," she said.
4 Or if she'd leave him alone, and let him arrange his life as he pleases.
5 In the first place she was alone, and it would be charming for her to have a young companion.
6 The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the sweetness of being alone in it together.
7 HE would get on well enough if she'd let him alone; they like his slang and his brag and his blunders.
8 Miss Bart, emerging late the next morning from her cabin, found herself alone on the deck of the Sabrina.
9 Lily remained at home, lunching and dining alone with her aunt, who complained of flutterings of the heart, and talked icily on general topics.
10 But as the minutes passed the need of throwing herself on his comprehension became more urgent: she could not bear the weight of her misery alone.
11 Lily was therefore standing alone when he reached her; and finding the expected look in her eye, he had the satisfaction of supposing he had kindled it.
12 In the evening also Lily found herself alone, for her aunt, who rarely dined out, had responded to the summons of a Van Alstyne cousin who was passing through town.
13 But now his love was her only hope, and as she sat alone with her wretchedness the thought of confiding in him became as seductive as the river's flow to the suicide.
14 After a while, however, he wearied of his perch and, dropping alone to the pavement, pushed his way to the first corner and turned into the moonlit silence of a side street.
15 It would have meant nothing to him to discover that his nearness made her more brilliant, but this glimpse of a twilight mood to which he alone had the clue seemed once more to set him in a world apart with her.
16 "I daresay it is true," she reflected; and her imagination was fired by the thought that Mr. Gryce, who might have sounded the depths of the most complex self-indulgence, was perhaps actually taking his first journey alone with a pretty woman.
17 She could never afterward recall how long the duel lasted, or what was the decisive stroke which finally, after a lapse of time recorded in minutes by the clock, in hours by the precipitate beat of her pulses, put her in possession of the letters; she knew only that the door had finally closed, and that she stood alone with the packet in her hand.
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