"My father!" she whispered. 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 cloth nearly touches the floor. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. " When the doctor entered the bedroom and looked into the faces of the culprits, he laughed brokenly. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen.
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