" "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. Anna left the room on tiptoe. He only laughed his defiance. Pale, flesh-colored light filtered in through the corners of the house.
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