1 Candish said Mr. Giles had come.
2 Bartholomew felt it; Giles felt it.
3 Mrs. Giles had to visit the kitchen.
4 Mr. Giles would be down in a moment.
5 Giles hollowed his hand and lit another.
6 Giles nicked his chair into position with a jerk.
7 "Act; dance; sing; a little bit of everything," said Giles.
8 "Mr. Giles may be late," she added, laying it, complacently, on top of the pile.
9 The words weren't worth writing in the book bound like an account book in case Giles suspected.
10 "That's what makes a view so sad," said Mrs. Swithin, lowering herself into the deck-chair which Giles had brought her.
11 He must, rather laboriously, tell them the story of the pictures at which the unknown guest had been looking when Giles came in.
12 Mrs. Haines glared at her out of goose-like eyes, gobbling, "Please, Mrs. Giles Oliver, do me the kindness to recognize my existence."
13 Allowing ten seconds to intervene, she rose; paused; and then, as if she had heard the last strain die out, offered Mrs. Giles Oliver her hand.
14 The wild child, afloat once more on the tide of the old man's benignity, looked over her coffee cup at Giles, with whom she felt in conspiracy.
15 Giles went back to the house and brought more chairs and placed them in a semi-circle, so that the view might be shared, and the shelter of the old wall.
16 Butterfly catching, for generation after generation, began there; for Bartholomew and Lucy; for Giles; for George it had began only the day before yesterday, when, in his little green net, he had caught a cabbage white.
17 Mrs. Giles Oliver drew the comb through the thick tangle of hair which, after giving the matter her best attention, she had never had shingled or bobbed; and lifted the heavily embossed silver brush that had been a wedding present and had its uses in impressing chambermaids in hotels.
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