She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. Part 3 She dressed carefully for dinner in a black dress that her father liked, and that made her look serious and responsible. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness.
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