At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. I will pray for you. “I wish you didn’t. Since her husband has laid me under such a weight of obligation, I couldn't, in honour, continue— hem!" and he took another explanatory pinch. Their poor hands!” “I know,” said Mr. 13 Montague Street.
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