Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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