Good riddance. There were two sisters, you know. 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. ‘It did not seem to me that it was so. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. McClintock.
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