"A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. With his black and gray hair, his gray-green eyes were a striking contrast and he looked even younger, as if he had been frozen at age thirty-three. ” She hesitated. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. I'm about to ring for supper.
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