Part 2 They received the guests in their pretty little hall with genuine effusion. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. Proper enough now, when he could not help himself, but the habit would be formed; and when he was strong again it would become the normal role, hers to give and his to receive.
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