I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. ” “You’ll never pay me. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her.
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