Wells “The art of ignoring is one of the accomplishments of every well-bred girl, so carefully instilled that at last she can even ignore her own thoughts and her own knowledge. He noted an ebony cane laid close to hand, which suggested she was able to get about. "Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. I’ve never had these crying fits before. "Ah! what is that?" he cried, pointing to a dark object floating near them amid the boiling waves, and which presented a frightful resemblance to a human face.
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