” Ann Veronica felt a slight embarrassment. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. ‘I am nine-and-twenty,’ he answered. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. I've seen him often do it. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room.
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