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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"The Nether World"

No longer were
her limbs huddled over with a few shapeless rags; she wore a
full-length dress of quiet grey, which suited well with her hair and
the pale tones of her complexion. As for her face--oh yes, it was
still the good, simple, unremarkable countenance, with the delicate
arched eyebrows, with the diffident lips, with the cheeks of
exquisite smoothness, but so sadly thin.
Here too, however, a noteworthy change was beginning to declare
itself. You were no longer distressed by the shrinking fear which
used to be her constant expression; her eyes no longer reminded you
of a poor animal that has been beaten from every place where it
sought rest and no longer expects anything but a kick and a curse.
Timid they were, drooping after each brief glance, the eyes of one
who has suffered and cannot but often brood over wretched memories,
who does not venture to look far forward lest some danger may loom
inevitable--meet them for an instant, however, and you saw that
lustre was reviving in their still depths, that a woman's soul had
begun to manifest itself under the shadow of those gently falling
lids. A kind word, and with what purity of silent gratitude the grey
pupils responded! A merry word, and mark if the light does not
glisten on them, if the diffident lips do not form a smile which you
would not have more decided lest something of its sweetness should
be sacrificed.


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