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She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. "I shall want nothing more. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. ” “For a little time,” she answered. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. It still failed in something. "Or trying to be," answered the doctor.
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