For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. “Am I dull?” she said. "It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. I want to give you time to think.
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