“I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. "He seems infatuated about the lad," observed Wild. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained.
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