The wall of St. ‘So it was. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. ‘Forgive this intrusion, ma’am, I beg. I have always loved you. It was horrible. " "I am so," replied Thames, who had followed him closely.
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