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"But you have interested me," says Geoffrey, seating himself on the broad sill of the window, as though preparing for a long dissertation on matters still unknown. "Pray tell me how your brother and his lovely wife—who evidently was as wise and true as she was lovely—got on." "I don't know, sir. I never was abroad before, an' I'm dead bate now, an' the bag's like lead." Presently, seeing she is again smiling and looking inexpressibly happy, for laughter comes readily to her lips, and tears, as a rule, make no long stay with her,—ashamed, perhaps, to disfigure the fair "windows of her soul," that are so "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"—"So you will come to England with me, after all?" he says, quite gayly..
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Conrad
"I do not shrink from it," replies she, bravely: "I would brave anything to be friends with your mother." "Yes. I forgive you," she says, almost in a whisper, with a seriousness that amounts to solemnity. She is still wondering vaguely who he can be, when he breaks the silence. "And I feel just as if he had gone quietly to bed," says.
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