Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. " "Perhaps not," replied Jack, to whom an idea had suddenly occurred. “Well, I do. He stamped his last letter as Annabel entered. “I throw it out in passing,” he said. " "No.
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