She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. The place for reading. Altogether, it was the most dreadful noise he had ever heard. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. CHAPTER XXI. Poor little one.
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