” He whispered to himself as her eyes bulged, arms flying furiously. " "No; it is only—what shall I say?—troubled. \" He rose and departed. I’ve bored you or something. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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