“John, don’t!” she cried. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. " She departed reluctantly. 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. Sheppard.
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