Her aunt arrived about halfpast ten, in black and with an unusually thick spotted veil. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. I tried. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now.
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