‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. 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. It contained three sovereigns, six and fourpence, two postage stamps, a small key, and her aunt’s return half ticket to Morningside Park. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her.
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