"As like as life. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. But I waited in vain. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. He forced her arm back, away, stretching it out to keep the weapon at bay. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said.
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