Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. '—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter. ” “Fine. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience. Close upon this came another thought. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music.
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