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I was—I was a corespondent. 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. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions. But you—you have a good face. And he unsheathed his sword. “What is the exact force of a motif?” she asked at random. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. Incursions were often made upon its territories by the functionaries of the law; sometimes attended with success, but more frequently with discomfiture; and it rarely happened, unless by stratagem or bribery, that (in the language of the gentlemen of the short staff) an important caption could be effected. He was bewildered. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.

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