She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. ” She turned and looked at him. Don’t try to shield anybody or hide anything. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. F. “And somehow or other,” she added, after a long interval, “I must pay Mr.
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