” The girl shook her head. That glove is still preserved. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. "Oh no—no! You say this to terrify me—to try me. He stepped in with a heavy foreboding of calamity.
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