"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity.
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