‘Yes, miss. " He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. It runs about gayly, it romps, it is bright and pretty, it has enormous quantities of soft hair and more power of expressing affection than its brothers. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo.
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