Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were
dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a
goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one
recalcitrant horse and leading another. “Not really. His
shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were
stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his
head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged
hat. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet. He was shifting to
reach his own weapon, which had fallen in between the pews at the back. I don’t
defend it. Stanley. He was Julian five years younger,
the spitting image. "Stay!" interposed Jonathan. ’
‘Will you indeed? Truly?’
His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. "
"Well, I never was more surprised in my life," said the poet,—"never!"
"He's just the man I expected to see," observed Hogarth, who, having arranged
everything to Thornhill's satisfaction, had turned to look at the prisoner, and was
now with his chin upon his wrist, and his elbow supported by the other hand,
bending his keen gray eyes upon him, "just the man! Look at that light, lithe
figure,—all muscle and activity, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon it.
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