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TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES

him in following, and the youngest entered the field.

‘This is a thousand pities,’ he said gallantly, to two or three of the girls nearest him, as soon as there was a pause in the dance. ‘Where are your partners, my dears?’

‘They’ve not left off work yet,’ answered one of the boldest. ‘They’ll be here by and by. Till then, will you be one, sir?’

‘Certainly. But what’s one among so many!’

‘Better than none. ‘Tis melancholy work facing and footing it to one of your own sort, and no clasping and colling at all. Now, pick and choose.’

‘Ssh—don’t be so for’ard!’ said a shyer girl.

The young man, thus invited, glanced them over, and attempted some discrimination; but, as the group were all so new to him, he could not very well exercise it. He took almost the first that came to hand, which was not the speaker, as she had expected; nor did it happen to be Tess Durbeyfield. Pedigree, ancestral skeletons, monumental record, the D’Urberville lineaments, did not help Tess in her life’s battle as yet, even to the extent of attracting to her a dancing-partner

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