My natural parents both died a very long time ago and I have been on my own for a great deal of my existence. But from the first her rather old-fashioned conception of life had jarred with the suburban atmosphere, the High School spirit and the memories of the light and little Mrs. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison.
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