He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. " "I'll never understand. She tore open the envelope and read it. You'll have it down. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. Lad, that fuddles me!" "Did you bring me down here to crucify me?" cried Spurlock, in passionate rebellion. At the thought of the major, her tears redoubled and she was obliged to rip off a piece from the remnants of her already maltreated underpetticoats with which to blow her nose and soak the damp from her cheeks. 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. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She colored faintly. Earles.
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