” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. Sheppard. Directly dinner was over Mr. “Soon enough, John. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own.
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