Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. Sir John stood upon the threshold. They are for serving me. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. He became really companionable, discussed the new story he had in mind, and asked some questions about colour. " "Mr.
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