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does such a wonderful kind of work that I was almost afraid to look at him. I finally told him how desperately uncomfortable I felt, whereupon he set up a bowl of entertainment & asked if I hadn't ever seen Mrs. Brush & him watching me in Dublin, or heard him speaking to her about me as we were dancing and hopping about). No I never had noticed a thing & of course never heard or dreamed anything at all. The only time I was conscious of his looking at me rather steadily, was at the Proctors a week ago & then after feeling a little queer for a moment, I laid it to the fact that he was looking at me to see whether I looked well or not, because until quite recently I have been pretty pale even quite ghastly-looking, according to the Cowels & consequently took his staring to be on that account.