Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. See paragraph 1. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr.
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