He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. ‘Speak, then. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Well, I shall be sorry to lose him, Mr. I never forgive an injury. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire.
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