" Sheppard immediately complied with the painter's request; while Gay and Figg drew back on one side, and Hogarth on the other. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. If Ray left the house, it would be easy. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. She sat perfectly still, however. " As he said this, he moved forward a few paces, when, finding his feet glued to the ground by some adhesive substance, he stooped to feel what it was, but instantly withdrew his hand, with an exclamation of horror. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat.
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