He was tender with her as he had not been in years. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. Marry, come up! I'll see who's to be obeyed. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair.
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