He talked at the blackboard in a pleasant, very slightly lisping voice with a curious spontaneity, and was sometimes very clumsy in his exposition, and sometimes very vivid. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. The open windows were above them now and, unless the intruder were to lean out, they could not possibly be seen. I was—I was a corespondent.
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