She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. " "Does that villain still maintain his power?" asked the stranger sternly. It had ceased to beat. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. ” She sat very still.
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