Then he got up and left her. 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. She wanted to be alone. She told us that it was a disguise. Always as black and bitter as gall. ‘I don’t know that I dare. Spurlock halted in his tracks. ’ ‘Prudence,’ repeated Gerald unguardedly. But if you do not leave this room I must. He feared to antagonize that distinguished person.
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