There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. “Before this there was a sort of restraint—a make-believe. "That'll teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head for the future," observed Thames, as he helped Jack to his feet. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns.
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