At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. She would have to leave very soon. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. That’s about the beginning. Jack's body was caught, and passed from hand to hand over a thousand heads, till it was far from the fatal tree. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. He loves the Mendelians because he hates all the big names of the eighties and nineties.
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