She put back her hood in a determined way. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile.
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