She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. While he was stirring his tea, she ran and fetched the comb. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. I freely forgive you. I even offered him back the half interest he had sold to me.
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