He had sufficient strength to wait upon himself. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph.
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