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It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. But apart from that, you have no particular objection to him, I suppose?” “The occurrence of last night is quite sufficient in itself,” Sir John answered, “to make me wish to discontinue Mr. "It has been … rather a hard day, Hoddy," Ruth answered. ” “Don’t be shy, Lucy. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child.
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