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pettish girl who stood by him, her luminous eyes fixed in sardonic

leaves

into atoms between her palms--had stamped scenes and sounds with

immortality, yet thrilled him with the indefinite sense of unreality

and dread one feels in scanning the lineaments of the beloved dead?

Had her nervous folly infected him? What absurd phantasy was hers,

and what his concern in her whims?

A stifled cry froentlemen had stepped fro to kiss her, was shaking hands with her cori to stir in the direction of the stranger

In another moment Mabel had led him up to her lover, and introduced,

in her pretty, ladylike way, and bravely enough, considering her

blushes, "Mr Chilton" to "my brother, Mr Winston Aylett"