It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. The servants had left the room. Stanley being bored and feeling limited. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. "Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him.
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