At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. But I shan't let him off thus. ” He stroked her hand gently.
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