Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Their colorful displays seemed to repel the dreariness of the sky as each group savored its long awaited moment, its weekend arrival in front of the opposite sex. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive.
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