” He crossed his arms. It was dry, as if she had powdered it. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it. It's my way when I'm ruffled. There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart.
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