" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. CHAPTER XX. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her.
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