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. Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. That wrappered life, as you call it—we’ve burned the confounded rags! Danced out of it! We’re stark!” “Stark!” echoed Ann Veronica. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned. " "What the devil's in the wind now, Captain?" cried Blueskin, in astonishment. ‘Not another caller will I receive this day.
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