'—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. " "Ay, but he will. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “Who can tell?” she said. He found himself thinking up all the psychology which he had ever read.
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