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. Giles's was lined with spectators. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. 9. “I do mean that,” she declared. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. Sheppard, in a voice of agony. The Rev. Let me engage myself.
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