She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. She smiled.
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