. ” “But, my dear Peter!” said Miss Stanley. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. ‘And I do not know why you are so polite, when you have been bad to me last night, and have taken my dagger. Instead had come this storm, this shouting, this weeping, this confusion of threats and irrelevant appeals. I want you. But she had spent nearly half of it, and had no conception of how such a sum could be made good again. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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