“You’d have to think how to get in between his bones. ” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. He stood still, almost breathless.
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