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. "What is this?" she wanted to know. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. She was making it up. “Hello, Vee!” he said. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. The doctor missed the expression of terror and dismay that flitted across Spurlock's face. “Please stay,” she said briefly. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe.
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