’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. . Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones.
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