"Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this. \"Borrowed a pencil. The Disguise. Capes most trying. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen.
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