The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. 1. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility.
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