The mighty concourse became for a moment still. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. "I did not come hither to consult you as to the state of my health, Sir," he observed, displeased by Jonathan's allusion to the alteration in his appearance. "O lud! what an exquisite box!" cried Edgeworth Bess. “Why should it matter?” he said. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. ‘He lacked moral fibre, did Nicholas. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair.
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