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affection, soliciting a return, and, finally, in words so plain as to bear but one meaning even to her, offering himself, hand, fortune, everything, to her acceptance. It was so; he had said it. Her astonishment and confusion increased; and though still not knowing how to suppose him serious, she could hardly stand. He pressed for an answer. ¡¡¡¡ "No, no, no!" she cried, hiding her face. "This is all nonsense. Do not distress me. I can hear no more of this. Your kindness to William makes me more obliged to you than words can express; but I do not want,
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I cannot bear, I must not listen to such--No, no, don't think of me. But you are _not_ thinking of me. I know it is all nothing." ¡¡¡¡ She had burst away from him, and at that moment Sir Thomas was heard speaking to a servant in his way towards the room they were in. It was no time for

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"If that be all your difficulty, I will furnish you with paper and every other material, and you may write your letter whenever you choose. Would it make you happy to write to William?" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes, very." ¡¡¡¡ "Then let it be done now. Come with me into the breakfast-room, we shall find everything there, and be sure of having the room to ourselves." ¡¡¡¡ "But, cousin, will it go to the post?" ¡¡¡¡ "Yes, depend upon me it shall: it shall go with the other letters; and, as your uncle will frank it, it will cost William nothing." ¡¡¡¡ "My uncle!" repeated Fanny, with a frightened look. ¡¡¡¡ "Yes, when you have written the letter, I will take it to my father to frank." ¡¡¡
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¡ Fanny thought it a bold measure, but offered no further resistance; and they went together into the breakfast-room, where Edmund prepared her paper, and ruled her lines with all the goodwill that her brother could himself have felt, and probably with somewhat more exactness. He continued with her the whole time of her writing, to assist her with his penknife or his orthography, as either were wanted; and added to these attentions, which she felt very much, a kindness to her brother

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'Why, I have not mentioned, Agnes,' said I, a little embarrassed, 'that Dora is rather difficult to - I would not, for the world, say, to rely upon, because she is the soul of purity and truth - but rather difficult to - I hardly know how to express it, really, Agnes. She is a timid little thing, and easily disturbed and frightened. Some time ago, before her father's death, when I thought it right to mention to her - but I'll tell you, if you will bear with me, how it was.' ¡¡¡¡Accordingly, I told Agnes about my declaration of poverty, about the cookery-book, the housekeeping accounts, and all the rest of it. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, Trotwood!' she remonstrated, with a smile. '
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Just your old headlong way! You might have been in earnest in striving to get on in the world, without being so very sudden with a timid, loving, inexperienced girl. Poor Dora!' ¡¡¡¡I never heard such sweet forbearing kindness expressed in a voice, as she expressed in making this reply. It was as if I had seen her admiringly and tenderly embracing Dora, and tacitly reproving me, by her considerate protection, for my hot haste in fluttering that little heart. It was as if I had seen Dora, in all her fascinating artlessness, caressing Agnes, and thanking her, and coaxingly appealing against me, and loving me with all her childish innocence.

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'Annie, my dear,' said the Doctor. 'That was wrong. It robbed me of a pleasure.' ¡¡¡¡'Almost the very words I said to her!' exclaimed her mother. 'Now really, another time, when I know what she would tell you but for this reason, and won't, I have a great mind, my dear Doctor, to tell you myself.' ¡¡¡¡'I shall be glad if you will,' returned the Doctor. ¡¡¡¡'Shall I?
oil painting' ¡¡¡¡'Certainly.' ¡¡¡¡'Well, then, I will!' said the Old Soldier. 'That's a bargain.' And having, I suppose, carried her point, she tapped the Doctor's hand several times with her fan (which she kissed first), and returned triumphantly to her former station. ¡¡¡¡Some more company coming in, among whom were the two masters and Adams, the talk became general; and it naturally turned on Mr. Jack Maldon, and his voyage, and the country he was going to, and his various plans and prospects. He was to leave that night, after supper, in a post-chaise, for Gravesend; where the ship

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chinese flower painting 'Oh! I don't know,' said Peggotty. 'Don't ask me. I wouldn't have him if he was made of gold. Nor I wouldn't have anybody.' ¡¡¡¡'Then, why don't you tell him so, you ridiculous thing?' said my mother. ¡¡¡¡'Tell him so,' retorted Peggotty, looking out of her apron. 'He has never said a word to me about it. He knows better. If he was to make so bold as say a word to me, I should slap his face.' ¡¡¡¡Her own was as red as ever I saw it, or any other face, I think; but she only covered it again, for a few moments at a time, when she was taken with a violent fit of laughter; and after two or three of those attacks, went on with her dinner.
oil painting¡¡¡¡I remarked that my mother, though she smiled when Peggotty looked at her, became more serious and thoughtful. I had seen at first that she was changed. Her face was very pretty still, but it looked careworn, and too delicate; and her hand was so thin and white that it seemed to me to be almost transparent. But the change to which I now refer was superadded to this: it was in her manner, which became anxious and fluttered. At last she said, putting out her hand, and laying it affectionately on the hand of her old servant

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Johnson, the man who had chafed me raw when I first came aboard, seemed the least equivocal of the men for'ard or aft. In fact, there was nothing equivocal about him. One was struck at once by his straightforwardness and manliness, which, in turn, were tempered by a modesty which might be mistaken for timidity. But timid he was not. He seemed rather to have the courage of his convictions, the certitude of his manhood. It was this that made him protest, at the beginning of our acquaintance, against being called Yonson. And upon this and him Louis passed judgment and prophecy. ¡¡¡¡''T is a fine chap, that squarehead Johnson we've for'ard with us,' he said. 'The best sailorman in the fo'c's'le. He's my boat-puller. But it's to trouble he'll come with Wolf Larsen, as the sparks fly upward. It's meself that knows. I can see it brewin' an' comin' up like a storm in the sky. I've talked to him like a brother, but it's little he sees in takin' in his lights or flyin' false signals. He grumbles out when things don't go to suit him, an' there'll be always some telltale carryin' word iv it aft to the Wolf

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She plunged into the chilly equinoctial darkness as the clock struck ten, for her fifteen miles' walk under the steely stars. In lonely districts night is a protection rather than a danger to a noiseless pedestrian, and knowing this Tess pursued the nearest course along by-lanes that she would almost have feared in the day time; but marauders were wanting now, and spectral fears were driven out of her mind by thoughts of her mother. Thus she proceeded mile after mile, ascending and descending till she came to Bulbarrow, and about midnight looked from that height into the abyss of chaotic shade which was all that revealed itself of the vale on whose further side she was born. Having already traversed about five miles on the upland she had now some ten or eleven in the lowland before her journey would be finished. The winding road downwards became just visible to her under the

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He was the youngest son of his father, a poor parson at the other end of the county, and had arrived at Talbothays Dairy as a six months' pupil, after going the round of some other farms, his object being to acquire a practical skill in the various processes of farming, with a view either to the Colonies, or the tenure of a home-farm, as circumstances might decide. ¡¡¡¡His entry into the ranks of the agriculturists and breeders was a step in the young man's career which had been anticipated neither by himself nor by others. ¡¡¡¡Mr Clare the elder, whose first wife had died and left him a daughter, married a second late in life. This lady had somewhat unexpectedly brought him three sons, so that between Angel, the youngest, and his father the vicar there seemed to be almost a missing generation. Of these boys the aforesaid Angel, the child of his old age, was the only son who had not taken a University degree, though he was the single one of them whose early promise might have done full justice to an academical training.

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"When did you begin to get worried about him?"asked Campbell.
　　"Well, I didn'treally. Of course it was awkward. You see, his room was let on from the 23rdand when I realised – I didn't atfirst – that he hadn't come backfrom Lugano –”
　　"I've got Lucerne herein my notes," said Campbell.
　　"Yes, yes, I think it was Lucerne. SomeArchaeological Congress or other. Anyway, when I realised he hadn't come back here and that his baggage was still here waiting in his room, itmade things rather awkward. You see, we are very booked up at this time of year and I hadsomeone else coming into his room. The Honourable Mrs. Saunders, who lives at Lyme Regis.She always has that room. And then his housekeeper rang up. She was worried."
　　"The housekeeper'sname is Mrs. McCrae, so I understand from Archdeacon Simmons. Do you know her?"