“Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. Fly! fly!" "As soon as I can do so with safety, I will return, or send to you," said Jack. Stanley, and paused. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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