’ The girl shook her head violently, setting the feathers on her hat bobbing. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. Your mother, for what it’s worth to you—for there’s nothing for you here, by God!—was the woman I chose for Nicholas. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home.
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