He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. The blouse dried nicely, it would only need a touch of starch and a little ironing. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. . But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. “It was very tiring. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. I thought every one had heard about it.
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