The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. ’ ‘Gone off?’ repeated Melusine, her wrongs rising up to tear into her chest.
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