She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. ” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. I’m behaving shockingly, I know. ‘You were right, miss. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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