It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Sebastian was always a man who felt the need to surround himself with the trappings of the finer life. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. " He then sprung into the coach, the door of which was closed by Obadiah, who mounted the box. About her, as she had gone day by day to and from the Tredgold College, she had seen and not seen many an incidental aspect of those sides of life about which girls are expected to know nothing, aspects that were extraordinarily relevant to her own position and outlook on the world, and yet by convention ineffably remote. "Sir Rowland must be gone.
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