\"Today's Friday, isn't it?\" Lucy remembered. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. "Tom Sheppard never said a better thing than that— ho! ho!" "Jack," cried his mother, wringing her hands in distraction, "you'll break my heart!" "Poh! poh!" returned her son; "women don't so easily break their hearts. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck.
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