“I’ll ruin your suit. At this juncture, the sound of oars reached his ears, and he perceived Mr. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. Mr. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering.
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