Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. She and John were able to see each other many times and spent long romantic winter afternoons together. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper.
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