She could think of nothing more to say. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. She ran her gaze over him, and allowed her eyelashes to flutter down. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock.
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