She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. John looked at his feet bashfully. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. "Adieu, my worthy uncle.
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