Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. He seemed too noisy. It was neither good nor bad. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely. We fixed that. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate.
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